Fire Emblem: Awakening - Another Again
by Yosei Ranbu
Summary: The second time Robin woke up in the field, he was crying.
1. The Verge of History

" _There are better places to take a nap, you know._ "

Robin's eyes snapped open. He stared in disbelief at the person standing over him, taking brief note of the man's sister and attendant close-by, then quickly scrambled to his feet, tears streaming down his face.

Chrom blinked. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I just- Whoa!"

He was cut off abruptly as Robin lunged forward and embraced him tightly. "You're alive!" he exclaimed exuberantly, unable to believe his senses. "You're alive, Chrom!" He pulled away holding Chrom at arm's length. "...But how?! I saw you die!" he continued. "You, Lissa, Frederick, Lucina; all of you died, I _saw_ it, Chrom!"

Chrom simply stared at him with a look of intense confusion. "I... What? I'm sorry, but I'm not understanding a word of what you're saying. Could you start over? Tell me, who are you, and how exactly do you know me?"

Robin went rigid, an icy dread crawling up his spine. "...What?"

Frederick stepped forward. "Indeed, I must inquire as to how it is that you know all three of our names, stranger," he said sternly. "And why is it that you wear a Plegian coat?"

A cold sweat was threatening to break out on Robin's brow. "Is this some kind of joke? Because it's not funny, Frederick."

"Agreed. The potential threat you pose to my charges is no laughing matter," he replied.

"Frederick! Don't sound like you're about to drag the poor guy through some sort of inquisition!" Lissa chided.

Robin staggered backward, now realizing that they were in the middle of a field. A far, far too familiar field. "No..." he murmured in disbelief as a horrible realization started to surface in his mind. He scrutinized the trio. Chrom looked a bit younger, and Frederick did as well. Lissa _definitely_ looked younger. "No no no..." he said a bit more loudly.

Lissa and Frederick had begun bickering about something or other, but Robin ignored them and dazedly turned away and took a few steps, staring numbly up at a cloudy sky.

Flashes of remembrance sprang to mind.

 _The wind howling on a dragon god's back._

 _An endless sea of Risen and Grimleal fanatics. The mighty Deadlords, revived again for one last battle._

 _Friends falling one by one, giving their lives for a future they would not see._

 _He, Chrom, and Lucina breaking through the mob to confront the Fell Dragon himself._

 _A fierce struggle against the god incarnate._

 _Being forced to watch Grima use his doppelganger's body to cut down both Exalts—first future-past, then present._

 _Throwing himself in a rage at the monster, fighting like a man possessed against a man quite literally possessed._

 _Striking the finishing blow against Grima, his hand cloaked in the Fell Dragon's own dark power as he shoved it through his other self's chest. Grima cursing him as he disappeared._

 _Racing to the sides of Chrom and Lucina, only to find cold and lifeless bodies. Searching the battlefield desperately to find at least one surviving Shepherd, and failing._

 _Screaming, long and hard, before the void snatched his voice into silence._

And now he was here, three years in the past, as if none of their sacrifices had mattered. The injustice of it all was monstrous enough to put Grima himself to shame.

He jumped a bit as a hand was placed on his shoulder. He turned his head to see Chrom. But not the Chrom he had known. Another, distinctly different Chrom, if Robin's theories on time travel were accurate.

"Are you alright?" Chrom asked in concern. "You're crying again."

"Huh?" Robin reached up and rubbed his eyes, realizing that Chrom was correct. "Ah. Sorry, it's just that-..." Robin began to tremble, tears welling up and spilling over once more. "Everyone died, Chrom," he said, voice thick and cracking. "I couldn't save them. They're all gone." He sank to his knees and began to sob openly.

"Are you a refugee of some sort? Were you beset upon by bandits?" Chrom asked quietly. But Robin gave no answer, too caught up in his grief to speak. Chrom stood silently over him, patiently waiting for the shudders that wracked the stranger's body to subside. Frederick and Lissa soon joined him in vigil.

After some minutes, Robin managed to compose himself, and rubbed his face dry on the sleeve of his coat. He froze as his eyes fell on his right hand. He held it up to the sunlight, not daring to believe what he saw.

The Mark of Grima was gone.

Frederick cleared his throat. "Forgive me, stranger, but I still have a great many questions that need answering."

"...Ah," Robin replied noncommittally, still gazing at the unblemished back of his hand.

Grima was dead. It was the only explanation. At the very least, he could be sure that everything they had fought for had not been in vain. That the deaths of his friends had had meaning and purpose. Grima was well and truly dead.

 _But what about in this world?_ Robin realized with a start.

"Let's start with proper introductions," Chrom suggested, smiling. "My name is Chrom. This is my sister, Lissa, and our protector, Frederick. But then, you seem to have already known all that."

"...I am Robin," the tactician replied. He held out his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Chrom," he said, voice thick with irony. Chrom looked a bit confused at the tone, but he shook hands with Robin nonetheless.

"Let's move on to the more pressing issue, then, sir," Frederick said stiffly. "How is it that you know us?"

Robin did not reply immediately, staring off into the distance. A different Grima still slept in this world, Robin was sure of it. And he would be damned before he allowed that monstrosity to roam free. He wouldn't let it claim the lives of his friends yet again, not while there was a single breath left in his body.

Gangrel, Walhart, Validar, Grima. A series of plagues ready to be set loose upon the world. But unlike before, Robin knew exactly when they were coming, and in exactly which ways. He would stop them all. This time, he would save everyone.

"...What if I told you that I had seen the future? That I had been here with you all before, and would go on to be your comrade for years after?"

"I would say that you take me for a fool," Frederick replied.

Robin chuckled. "A predictable response from Frederick the Wary."

The Knight Commander raised his eyebrow at Robin's use of the nickname.

"...Well, you're not going to believe anything I say for a long time yet, but if I can convince _you_ , Chrom..." Robin continued, turning and pointing at the Exalt— _No, prince_ , Robin corrected himself— "...Then this is going to be a lot easier."

Chrom looked at him skeptically. "Forgive me, friend, but it's going to take some doing to convince me that you hail from the future."

Robin smirked. "All in good time. Let's start off with things I couldn't possibly know unless I had been friends with you all for a long while. Chrom, you hate rhubarb, are banned from the royal art storehouse, and you once accidentally knocked a hole in the wall of Castle Ylisstol while sparring."

Chrom's eyes widened. "How did you know about that last one...?" He looked over to Frederick, who was raising an eyebrow at him. "What? ...What?!"

Robin turned to the young princess. "Lissa, you're paranoid that you're not lady-like enough, snort when you laugh, and are as we speak plotting a way to dump a toad—no, actually a _frog_ —inside my coat's hood."

Lissa grinned. "Wow, you're good!" she exclaimed as she stealthily let an amphibian slip out of her grasp.

Frederick was beginning to grow agitated. "Enough of these games, sir. Any competent spy or saboteur could-"

"And as for _you_ ," Robin interrupted, jabbing his finger emphatically at Frederick, "You have a fear of large animals, have a bizarre fixation towards fire, and are secretly in love with Emmeryn!"

Chrom and Lissa's jaws dropped, and Frederick's face became red as a beet as he began to splutter in shock. Robin nearly burst out laughing; he had _never_ seen Frederick blush before, not even once. And judging by their reactions, neither had Chrom nor Lissa.

"I... I think I might me starting to believe him," Lissa admitted.

"Is he right, Frederick?" Chrom asked.

"I-It is my sworn duty to protect L-Lady E-Emmeryn," Frederick blustered. "A knight c-could never allow h-himself to-"

"Naga above, he _is_ right," Chrom breathed, staring at his attendant in a new light.

"You're probably going to find yourself saying that a lot about me," Robin said smugly while idly inspecting his fingernails. He suddenly frowned. "Still, I feel like there's something I'm forgetting here... Oh shit! Southtown! We went to Southtown right after we met! Shit! Shit!"

"Robin?" Chrom asked.

"We need to get a move on. Now. Southtown is about to be attacked by bandits. Might even be happening as we speak."

"You expect us to believe such a claim?" Frederick growled, face still a tad pink. "How could you know of this without having a hand in it yourself?"

"Like I said, future. Seriously, it's going to save us all a lot of trouble if you just assume the answer to _How does he know that?_ is _Because he's from the future._ " He put his hand on his chin. "Or _Because he's a genius._ I got called that a lot." Robin shook his head. "Right, not the time for ego-stroking. We need to move. Civilians being slaughtered, buildings burning, all that."

Chrom nodded. "Alright. Let's go."

"Milord, I must object," Frederick stated forcefully. "This could easily be a trap. We have no reason to trust this man."

"And if he speaks true? There may be people who need our help, Frederick. We can't turn a blind eye out of fear."

Frederick sighed. "I know that look and that tone well. Very well, milord, we shall go." He turned toward Robin. "But don't think for even a second that I will not be watching you like a hawk. And should anything happen to Prince Chrom-"

"You'll make me wish I had just passed away peacefully in my sleep here?" Robin asked.

Frederick narrowed his eyes, for this had been nearly verbatim what he had been about to say. Which of course, Robin knew from prior experience.

Robin grinned. "Just so long as we're on the same page."

* * *

Chrom growled as he heaved against a bandit's axe with Falchion, struggling to break a stalemate. He twisted the blade, then sidestepped around the axeman's retaliatory swing, lunging low at the man's side. Falchion's tip caught the bandit's gut, causing him to snarl in pain. He immediately charged Chrom again, bringing his axe down in a blow that caused Chrom to strain as he countered it.

Meanwhile, on the opposite end of the market, Robin casually parried a myrmidon's attack, then beheaded the man in one stroke with his silver sword.

"This is weird," he muttered while sheathing his weapon, Lissa crouching at his side as she gawked at the headless corpse. "I remember this being a hell of a lot more difficult. I'm pretty sure we almost died two or three times apiece." He put his hands behind his head. It was possible that in comparison to himself and most everyone else from three years ago, he had simply become abnormally strong. He must not have noticed how drastic his improvement had been due to the constant escalation of his battles and the gradual increase of the strength of his enemies.

"...Hmm, I suppose ruffians shouldn't be much of a concern for someone who's gone up against Deadlords..."

Lissa looked up at him quizzically. "Deadlords? You mean those things from fairytales?"

Robin snorted. "I wish. By the way, get used to the idea of animated dead, because those aren't going away anytime soon."

Suddenly, a bolt of electricity struck Robin's back. A bandit mage smiled, pumping his fist at an easy kill.

Then Robin turned around, and the assailant froze in place.

"That was cute," Robin grinned. "I almost felt that. Would you care for me to show you what being hit by _real_ magic feels like?" he asked as he drew his Thoron tome.

The bandit mage nearly soiled himself when he saw the tome and sprinted away in a panic, as fast as his legs would carry him.

Robin smirked and put the Thoron tome away. Beside him, Lissa gaped in amazement. "That was so cool! But shouldn't you like, zap that guy or something?" she questioned, pointing to the still-fleeing mage.

"Nah. He's lost the will to fight, and I don't fancy myself a murderer. Besides, if he still wants to go at it then I should probably have Chrom take him down. He's going to need experience fighting mages."

"Uh, ok. Do you need me to heal you?" she asked, waving her stave.

"Believe me, I'd like for you to be able to, even if it was just a scratch. You need as much healing practice as you can get. But I guess that my magical resilience has gotten so high that that attack did literally nothing to me," he explained, gesturing to an uninjured back. He shrugged, then tapped his finger on his chin. "Maybe I should have tossed that mage an Arcthunder tome to see if that would have let him do any better..."

Lissa gave him a strange look. "You say some weird things. You _wanted_ that guy to have been able to hurt you?"

"Well I mean, it's not like I'm a masochist or anything. Healing any little injury is just the most optimal way for you to gain experience."

Lissa tilted her head. ""Optimal"? Are you some sort of tactician or something?"

Robin laughed. "Something like that. Anyway, let's go see how Chrom and Frederick are holding up."

"Ok! Hey, does my bro become as strong as you?"

"Oh yeah. He was probably even stronger. He killed Walhart the Conqueror, after all."

"Who?"

"Eh, give it two years or so and you'll know."

Robin folded his hands behind his head as he walked. Now that he thought about it, he realized that he had a long road ahead of him, even before he got to the very serious issue of Walhart, let alone Grima after that. Saving Emmeryn would have to be his first priority, and afterward he would need to figure out a way to deal with Gangrel. If Robin did manage to prevent Emmeryn from falling to her death this time around, then he would have to deal with a less galvanized Ylissean-Regna Feroxian alliance, and a more unified Plegian army. The clash at the border wastes would probably become much more bloody, assuming it even happened at all. And who knew what state the continent would be in when the Conqueror's forerunners came knocking?

Robin sighed. He was beginning to understand the problems "Marth" must have been grappling with. He abruptly stopped in place, realizing that Lucina might not even be in this timeline; he had no reason to believe that this was an era where she and her comrades had traveled into the past. He would have to operate under the assumption that he was alone in his foreknowledge, and for some reason that he couldn't quite pin down, this distressed him.

"Robin?" Lissa called.

"Hmm? Ah, sorry. Coming!"

* * *

Chrom ducked a broad swipe from the bandit leader's axe, swinging upwards with Falchion. The man, Garrick, jumped back, wincing as Falchion nicked his side and drew blood. Chrom lunged forward, intend on finishing the duel in one blow, but Garrick was quicker than anticipated, countering the attack and punching Chrom in the gut. Chrom gagged, staggering backwards. Garrick raised his axe overhead, about to strike, when a bolt of lightning flew down and struck the ground between the combatants. Both leapt away, skidding to a halt.

"No good, Chrom, no good," Robin said in exasperation, shaking his head. "The old Chrom would've just headbutted the bastard and gutted him like a fish afterward."

"It's not exactly that easy!" Chrom snapped. "I could die at any moment if I'm not careful!"

Robin rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, yeah, I know, but I don't think you're supposed to be struggling with Scarface the Bandit."

"Who said I'm struggling?! And why are you acting as if you're in charge?!"

Robin blinked. He hadn't anticipated getting resistance from Chrom like this. He supposed that he was going about things a little bit differently in this scenario; the previous time, he had fought at Chrom's side, but here he was having Frederick fill that role instead, as he wanted the two of them to hone their combat abilities as quickly as possible. He frowned, realizing that he had been taking his previous close friendship with the prince as a given. This was a mistake he couldn't afford to make, not when everything might hinge on his ability to convince Chrom to go along with his every decision.

"You're right, I'm overstepping some bounds here. I'm sorry, but I promise you that my intentions and reasons are both good. Let me show you that I'm here to help. I'll off Gaptooth over there myself if you'll let me."

Garrick growled. "Oy, you git! I've got me a name, and it's-"

Robin raised his hand, cutting the bandit off. He smirked. "Sorry, but don't waste your breath. I didn't remember your name the first time, and I'm sure as hell not going to bother now." The bandit howled in anger, but Robin ignored him and turned back to Chrom. "May I? I understand if you want to settle this yourself."

Lissa nudged Chrom. "He's really strong, bro!"

Chrom sighed. "Alright, go ahead. Show me what you've got."

Robin grinned. "As you command, milord." He strolled up to Garrick, no weapons on hand. The bandit raised an eyebrow, then swung with his axe. Robin stepped away nimbly, dodging by a hair's breadth. Garrick growled and swung again, and once more Robin avoided the attack by less than inch. The bandit, starting to become frustrated, began swinging erratically, and still Robin continued to be just ever-so-slightly out of reach in the one-sided dance. Chrom and Lissa's mouths dropped, and even Frederick seemed begrudgingly impressed.

"You. Stupid. Asshole!" Garrick seethed, each word punctuated with an axe stroke. "Just. Stay. Still. And. Die already!"

Robin ran his fingers over the edges of the pages of the tome in his pocket, uttering a few short words. His hand became shrouded in lightning, and after ducking under Garrick's last swing, he jammed his fist into Garrick's heart before releasing the pent up electrical energy. A large bolt of lighting burst out of the man's back, shooting off into the sky before dissipating. The bandit gagged, eyes bulging as blood spurted from his mouth. He took a few tremulous steps backwards, then collapsed, dead.

Robin turned back to his comrades, each of whom were shocked by what they had just seen. "I'm strong, Chrom," Robin said quietly as he flicked blood off of his hand. "It's quite possible that I'm currently one of the strongest people in the world. But I can't do this alone. Dark days are coming, Chrom, and I need your help if we're all going to get through them."

Chrom frowned, searching Robin's eyes. The sincerity he found in them was profound. After a few moments he sighed. "You might be a prophet, or you might just be a lunatic." He suddenly smiled. "But either way, you fought with us to protect innocent people, and as far as I'm concerned that makes you a friend."

"Milord, if I might interject," Frederick said tersely. "The bandit spoke with a Plegian accent, and our mysterious friend here wears a Plegian coat. That is too great a coincidence for me to ignore."

"I trust him, Frederick. And judging by the display he put on just now, if he was our enemy, I don't think we would be able to stop him from killing us anyway."

Frederick's jaw tightened, his pride demanding that he object, but he realistically did not like his chances were he to challenge Robin.

"However, the bandit being Plegian does concern me," Chrom noted. "I don't suppose your foresight tells you what that's about, does it Robin?"

"It's not foresight. I've just experienced this all before. And the bandit's Plegian because Gangrel's trying to stir up unrest on the Ylissean-Plegian borders. He wants a war, and he's going to stop at nothing to get it."

Chrom frowned. "I don't like the sound of that. Our peace with Plegia isn't an easy one, but it's something worth protecting. I don't want to believe that even the Mad King would be willing to throw it away."

"More than willing, Chrom. He would relish in it. He wants to bury every last man, woman, and child in this country. I've heard him say as much."

Frederick raised an eyebrow. "You claim to have held audience with the king of Plegia?"

"No, we only met on battlefields."

Chrom raised an eyebrow as well. "That's a tad hard to believe, but if Plegia really is readying for war then we need to tell Emmeryn immediately. I would appreciate it if you would accompany us back to Ylisstol, Robin."

"Frankly, I was worried that I was going to have to convince you to _let_ me come with you," Robin admitted.

"Milord, I cannot condone allowing this man anywhere near the Exalt," Frederick said through gritted teeth.

Robin looked at the Knight Commander with a deathly serious look. "Frederick, I might be the only thing standing between Emmeryn and an untimely death. Believe me, you want me in Ylisstol right now more than you could possibly know."

"I have had quite enough of you," Frederick snapped. "I will not allow you to-"

" _Frederick_ ," Chrom said sharply. The knight instantly fell silent.

"I appreciate your concern for Emmeryn's safety. I really do. But as bizarre as Robin's claims are, he might be the only person who can prevent a sea of bloodshed. I'm going to trust in him. You don't have to do the same, but you _will_ obey my orders. And I am ordering you to leave him be."

"...Very well, milord. As you command. I will make preparations for our departure," Frederick said quietly. He gave Robin a quick glare, then began to walk away.

"What?!" Lissa exclaimed. "We're leaving right now?! But I want warm food to eat and a warmer bed to sleep in!"

Chrom grinned. "And you can have those things, once we get back to Ylisstol. But for now, we need to make haste."

Lissa groaned loudly. "But I wanted Southtown Soup! I haven't had it in ages!"

"Sorry Lissa," Robin chuckled. "But you're out of luck, because there is not a _chance_ that I am missing an opportunity to eat bear meat."

* * *

When the group finally made camp for the night, Robin was nervous. The moment of truth would soon be at hand. He tried to savor his dinner, but the tension prevented him from doing so, and later interfered with his sleep as well. So when Chrom and Lissa got up in the middle of the night, Robin rose with them. They wandered through the woods for some ten minutes before the earthquake struck. Chrom and Lissa were terrified, but Robin was exhilarated. He looked up to the night sky expectantly, and witnessed the first portal when it opened and dropped Risen into the world. Robin's heart was jack-hammering in his chest as he and Chrom dispatched the undead, and it nearly stopped when the second portal appeared. A feminine form could be seen as if underwater, and then she had crossed the boundary, flying through the burning air.

She was here. Lucina existed in this timeline as well. And Robin was relieved, not only at seeing his friend alive once more, but because he would no longer need to shoulder his heavy burden all alone.

But Robin's elation quickly turned to dread as a sobering realization struck him.

 _If Lucina is here, then so is the other me, and her world's Grima along with him._


	2. Unwelcome Change

Frederick was not having a pleasant day. First he had had to endure his lord and master ignoring all good sense and common reason when it came to that untrustworthy Robin individual, then there had been that messy business in Southtown (he had no idea how long it would take him to scrub the bloodstains out of Prince Chrom's attire), and then he had gone without supper rather than endure that _wretched_ bear meat.

And now hellfire was erupting from the ground and the living damned were falling from the sky, no doubt intent on dragging his charges with them back into the afterlife.

Although it defied all earthly logic, Frederick was convinced that that scoundrel Robin was involved with this somehow. However, that issue would have to wait until these creatures had been eradicated and the royal family's safety ensured. Frederick spurred his steed harder, racing towards the sounds of battle echoing through the woods.

* * *

Chrom grunted and dislodged Falchion from a Risen's chest, then turned to Robin incredulously. "Did... Did that person just fall out of the sky?!" Chrom yelled. "And what the hell are these corpse things?! What on earth is going on?!"

Robin whistled as he obliterated the last Risen of the group with thunder magic. "Now _that_ is a long story to explain. Sound bite: The Risen are the work of the Fell Dragon Grima, and _sh_ -... _that person_ over there is also a time traveler." Robin had nearly had a slip of the tongue, but instinct told him it would be best to keep Lucina's identity and gender hidden for now.

"Great, more time travelers!" Chrom shouted sarcastically. "What next?! Is my son from the future going to show up and start calling me Pops?!"

Robin struggled to make his face as blank as possible and bit back the urge to reply that Chrom had only had daughters. However, expression forced its way through when he realized that Lucina was cornered off in the distance.

"...Chrom, I'm going to go help that person. Hole up in one of those abandoned forts; you should be safe there. ...Relatively safe, that is. Anyway, Lissa, stick close to your brother. Sully and Virion should be showing up any minute now. You two hold tight until they get here." With that Robin took off in Lucina's direction, not bothering to wait for a reply from Chrom.

"Wait, how do you know Sully?" the prince shouted. "And who the hell is Virion?!"

* * *

"My dearest flower— _oof_ —If you could but slow down— _urgh_ —and allow me to— _urk_ —properly ride..."

Sully glanced back at the blue-haired man being dragged along by her horse as she careened through the forest. They had rode for nearly a mile now, but the man had refused to release his grip on her saddle, having latched onto it when she attempted to leave him behind so that she could go investigate whatever the hell was going on right now. She whistled. "Naga, Ruffles, you're still hanging on? I'd be impressed if I wasn't so creeped out." After all, the dandy had followed her all the way from the tavern back in town, pestering her with confessions of love or some other load of pig slop.

"Virion is a man of many virtues, and tenacity is but one— _ow!_ —but one of them. Besides, a gentleman such as myself— _guh!_ —would never abandon a woman in the face of peril!"

"Yeah?! Well this _woman_ is about to- ...The everliving hell was that?" Sully muttered as she looked over her shoulder to observe a figure they had just passed. "Hey Ruffles, was it just me or was that freak purple?"

"Virion does not discriminate against others— _ouch_ —over such paltry matters. ...But yes, his skin was indeed purple. And those glowing red eyes of his— _bwuh_ —suggest to me that he is not man, but aberration. ...And I believe that said aberration— _ugh_ —is following us now."

"I'll kill it later then. I hear fighting up ahead. Ruffles, hightail it out of here. Things are about to get messy."

Virion was about to say something when they broke into a clearing, prompting Sully to bring her horse to a halt to get her bearings. Unprepared for this, Virion went skidding in a rather inelegant fashion, rolling across the ground before coming to a halt. He shakily got to his feet, brushed himself off, then stood fully with a refined poise that belied the fact that he still had dirt in his teeth. He discreetly spat to clear his mouth, then turned back toward Sully.

Who was no longer there.

He smiled and shook his head before sweeping his hair back with a flourish. "My, my. There is no gardener in this world finer than Virion, for none go to such lengths as he to sow the seeds of love." He was about to search for the cavalier when he paused. "Ah but of course, first thing's first." He took out his bow, notched an arrow, and waited a few moments. As expected, the monster that had followed them came bounding into view, sword held high. Virion took careful aim, then released the string, his arrow whistling through the air before burying itself between glowing red eyes. The Risen fell backwards, twitching erratically before evaporating in a cloud of ash. Virion regarded the dissipating remains for a moment.

"It seems that Valm is not the only continent with more than its fair share of troubles," he said reflectively. Then he scanned about, found the horse tracks he was looking for, and took off after Sully.

* * *

Lucina deflected an axe-strike from a hulking Risen, then nimbly sidestepped the sword thrust of another. In two quick strokes she dispatched the pair, then turned and charged another. Robin couldn't help but smile as he watched her practically dance around her opponent; it was a relief to see her alive and well again.

Lucina had just beheaded her enemy when Robin noticed another Risen sneaking up on her. The archer drew its bowstring, in plain view, but Lucina couldn't see it on account of the darkness and her mask inhibiting her peripheral vision. Robin immediately flipped open his tome, chanting a short verse before firing a Thoron at the Risen. It was promptly evaporated before it had a chance to let its arrow fly. Robin noted that Thoron might have been a tad overkill; even an Elthunder probably would've gotten the job done, but he wasn't keen on the idea of having his reunion cut short before it even occurred because he had decided to be conservative with his spell usage.

He walked up to a visibly surprised Lucina, who immediately turned on him with Falchion held defensively.

"Woah, woah, easy there," Robin said, raising his hands. "I'm not your enemy."

Lucina frowned, clearly skeptical. Robin was about to say more, but, to his frustration, was cut off by another gate opening above them. Risen plummeted down to the ground and surrounded the pair. Robin and Lucina immediately went back to back, Robin out of habit and Lucina out of instinct. "Just like old times," Robin laughed, but Lucina ignored him and immediately threw herself at a nearby Risen. Robin sighed, then drew an Arcfire tome. Overkill be damned, he didn't have the patience to deal with fodder like this the economic way right now.

* * *

"Gods, is there no end to these things?" Chrom grunted as he fended off yet another Risen that had attempted to clamber over the fort's walls. He sliced off the creature's arm, causing it to wail loudly before falling back to the ground. The Risen staggered to its feet, about to attempt the climb again when a lance tip burst through its temple, killing it instantly. A red-armored cavalier patted her horse on its flank as she pulled her weapon pack, then twirled the lance before holding it to her forehead in a crisp salute. "Captain Chrom! Gods, am I glad to see you! What the hell is going on around here?!"

Chrom sighed with relief. "Good to see you as well, Sully," he called as he began to climb down a ladder, Lissa following close behind. "You're right on schedule, apparently. ...And honestly, your guess is as good as mine."

Sully frowned. "Say, where the hell is Commander Frederick? You'd think that at a time like this that tightass would be sticking so close to you that he'd-"

"I'm _quite_ curious as to how you intend to finish that sentence, Miss Sully," a deep voice commented as another horse came into view, its rider resting an ichor-covered silver lance on his shoulder. A second, smaller man was sitting behind him, obfuscated by Frederick's bulky armor.

Sully began to break out in a cold sweat. "Sentence? Hahaha, what sentence? Nobody's saying sentences 'round here, Knight Commander Sir. Ain't that right, Chrom?"

Chrom smiled. "I'm glad to see you're well, Frederick. I was concerned that you might have gotten into trouble when these _things_ appeared."

"With how tough these bastards are, I'm real glad to have you backin' us up, Commander," Sully added.

"Dearest Sully!" a loud, familiar voice exclaimed.

" ...Aaaaand you brought Ruffles with you. Fan-friggin-tastic."

Frederick's jaw twitched. "I stumbled upon him by chance. He was rather... _insistent_ about accompanying me."

Sully grimaced. "Tell me about it."

Virion hastily dismounted, running up to Sully and dropping to one knee. "Oh my, glorious light, do not stray from my side again, for I would be lost in this cold, cruel, dark world without your radiance!

Chrom sized the newcomer up and sighed, this time without the relief. "Let me guess... You must be Virion."

Sully blinked. "You know this fool?" she asked.

The archer turned to Chrom with a broad smile. "Ah, but to think that the fair name of Virion had spread into lands even as distant as these!" he exclaimed. "It is not surprising, of course, but I-"

"Stow it, Ruffles. We've got company," Sully grunted. Another swarm of Risen was rapidly approaching the group.

"Chrom! Look over there!" Lissa shouted.

Chrom squinted, then widened his eyes as he caught sight of what Lissa was referring to. It was difficult to see in the darkness, but a young woman was at the front of the pack, clearly running for her life.

"Shepherds, we have a sheep that needs tending to," Chrom declared. "Let's move!"

* * *

The last Risen Robin and Lucina had been fighting gave a guttural groan, then began to disintegrate. Robin put his tome away and brushed off his hands, then turned to find an empty clearing, just as he had expected. Naturally, Lucina was not fond of lingering around people presumably from this era. He glanced around quickly, eyes soon settling on a retreating blue figure.

"Oh no you don't," Robin muttered under his breath. He immediately took off in pursuit.

Lucina was quick, but Robin was much more familiar with the area thanks to his prior experiences in it. Though Lucina had a head start, the labyrinth of fire, trees, and shadows slowed her progress, and the tactician soon caught up to her.

Realizing she had been tailed, Lucina skidded to a halt, quickly turning and drawing Falchion. Robin stopped a short distance away from her, close enough that he could chase after her if she ran again, but far enough away that he wouldn't be caught off guard if Lucina felt pressured into attacking.

"What business do you have with me?" she asked guardedly. Robin had to stymie a chuckle at the forced deepness of her voice; it was almost cute that she didn't realize how pointless trying to hide her identity from him was.

"More than you could possibly know," Robin said with a sly grin. "... _Lucina."_

Lucina went rigid. "You... How can you know my name? Just who are you?!"

Robin blinked. "Huh? You don't recognize me? Come on, I can't have looked that different in your time. It's me, Robin! You know, future Grandmaster Tactician of Ylisse? Your father's best friend? ...Lucina, you're giving me a weird look. Why are you giving me a weird look? You're wearing the mask but I can tell you're giving me a weird look. Why are you giving me a weird look, Lucina?"

* * *

Chrom sighed with relief as he dislodged Falchion from the last Risen's chest. The young woman who had just been rescued collapsed to her knees, panting heavily as she struggled to recatch her breath. She wore a Plegian coat, and her right hand, emblazoned by a bizarre purple crest, rested on top of a book as snow-white as her hair.

Chrom flicked Falchion clean of ichor and ash, then resheathed his sword. He extended a hand to the girl. "It's alright now. You're safe," he smiled reassuringly.

The girl looked toward him, eyes searching. Tentatively, she took the proffered hand, and Chrom helped her to her feet. "Th-Thank you," she said quietly, eyes still fixated on the prince.

Lissa leaned in curiously, squinting in the darkness. "Hey, Chrom? Doesn't something feel... _familiar_ about her?"

Frederick narrowed his eyes. "Indeed, something seems amiss. But what?"

"The only thing amiss has been this seraph from noble Virion's wor- GAUGH!" Virion spluttered, abruptly silenced by Sully's chokehold.

Chrom glanced toward the Knight Commander. "This has been a stressful night for us all. We can muddle through our questions later." He looked back towards the girl. "Still, I feel I would be remiss in not asking at least one. My name is Chrom. What is yours?"

The girl blinked, umber eyes wide and bright. "Oh! Forgive me, my name is..." She paused, puzzled. "...Huh? My name is... My name..." She stared blankly, jaw dropping. "...I can't remember!" She looked around in a panic. "I'm not even sure how I got here!"

Chrom gently placed his hands on her shoulders. "Woah there, easy, easy. You can't remember anything? Are you sure?"

Lissa gasped. "Amnesia?!"

Frederick's neck muscles tightened. " _Subterfuge_ ," he corrected.

The girl scrunched up her face, straining to recall anything she could. "...Nothing. I mean, I know basic things, like that you're a man, your hair is blue, we're in a forest, and so on." She glanced down at her tome. "I know that this is meant for magic, and I'm pretty sure I can use it. But nothing beyond that... No specifics. Not who I am, why I'm here, or where I was headed."

Chrom frowned. "That's quite troublesome. Well, I would never be so negligent as to leave someone in your state all alone. You can travel with us until you reclaim your memories," he smiled kindly.

The girl tilted her head, scrutinizing him. "...That's very generous of you." She looked around the forest a tad nervously. "Well, I don't suppose I have alternatives. You're probably better company than whatever the hell those things were, at any rate."

Frederick cleared his throat.

Chrom raised his hand, cutting his attendant off before he could even begin to speak. "Yeah, yeah, I know, Frederick. Let's not get into this right now. She's coming with us, end of discussion. We can go over your no-doubt reasonable objections at a later time, but I am _not_ in the mood for this right now."

Frederick was silent a moment, then sighed. "As you wish. But do not think this matter settled."

"Please forgive Frederick. He's a good person, but being suspicious is part of his station," Chrom explained to the girl. "At any rate, I think further introductions are in order. This is my sister, Lissa, and that's Sully over there."

"Hi!" Lissa waved.

"And this pastry of a man is Virion," Sully added, as Virion's blocked windpipe prevented his harangue of a self-introduction.

The girl nodded, and was about to say something when she became suddenly still. "...Ah! I-I think I just remembered something! Yes, that's right! My name is-!"

A sudden gale of wind cut through the forest, but its noise wasn't enough to prevent those surrounded from hearing the name. A bead of sweat formed on Chrom's brow. Lissa stared, flabbergasted. Frederick looked as if he wished to strangle something. Sully tilted her head in confusion at their reactions, while Virion began to desperately tap on her arm.

Chrom blinked as his eyes focused on the coat he could now distinctly recognize through the gloom. His gaze traveled back to the girl's face. "Uh... I'm sorry, but would you mind saying that again? I think I misheard the first time. What is your name?"

She grinned.

"Robin!" she exclaimed cheerfully.


	3. Unwelcome Change II

Robin was sitting on a log, his head clutched between his hands.

"So, let me be sure I'm understanding this... In your time, Robin of Ylisse, Grandmaster Tactician... was a _woman_."

Lucina nodded. "That is correct."

Robin was quiet for a moment, then abruptly stood up and clapped his hands together. "Well, I'm going to go bash my head against a tree for a while. You stay right here, ok?"

Lucina was somewhat alarmed that he seemed to mean it. "Why does this information cause you so much distress?" she questioned.

"Because _I'm_ Robin! And I'm very comfortable with being Robin, exactly as I am! I don't need an existential crisis right now, not with everything else I've already got on my plate!"

"...Forgive me if I am a bit mistrusting, but how can you claim to be the tactician Robin? And more pressingly, how do you know who I am?"

Robin sighed and scratched his head. "...Well, like you, I come from the future. But not the future of this world; the future of a world parallel to it, similar in nearly every way, save my _gender_ , apparently," Robin laughed sarcastically. His eyes immediately sombered. "There was Chrom. There was Grima. And there was you."

Lucina stared at him in confusion. " _Me?_ "

Robin nodded. "Yes. I left my world three years or so hence, from this exact night. The night you arrived. In that time, I came to know you and your friends. ... _My_ friends."

"You claim to have met me before? And my comrades as well?"

"That's right. You, your sister, your- ...Wait, Cynthia is still your sister, right? ...OH GODS, DID I MARRY CHROM?!" Robin yelled, fingers clawing at his scalp.

Lucina tilted her head. "...No, the Robin of my time remained more or less single her entire life." If the entire conversation hadn't been so bizarre, Lucina might have laughed at Robin's visible relief. She went to say more, but hesitated, unsure of just how much she should be telling this stranger. "...My mother was Sumia. And yes, my sister is named Cynthia."

Robin nodded, hand on his chin. "I see."

Lucina regarded him curiously. "If you truly did come from another time, one where I had already come to the past, then you must know my purpose, yes?"

"Yeah. Prevent Chrom's murder, stop the revival of the Fell Dragon Grima, and save the future."

"...Did... Did we succeed?"

Robin became somber, and looked away from her. "On one of those counts, at least."

"What?"

He glanced back to her. "...Grima was revived. We managed to defeat him, but... You died. Chrom died." He swallowed dryly. "Everybody but me died. I struck the finishing blow on Grima, and then I faded away. And when I woke up, I was here."

Lucina stared at him as she digested this information, but one particular piece of it was lodged in her mind. "...I was told that there was no slaying Grima. That sleep could be our only victory, and that it was imperative we prevent him from rousing from his slumber because of this."

Robin tightened a fist. "We did prevent Grima from waking up. But only _one_ Grima."

Lucina's breath caught in her throat. "What on earth do you mean by _that_?!"

He looked at her directly, his gaze deathly serious. "The Grima of your time followed you."

She staggered backward, shocked. "Th-That's impossible...! How could he...?!"

Robin continued. "His power was weakened, but he managed to catch us off guard at the moment we thought our victory secured. He stole the true body of his sleeping counterpart, and we were forced to challenge him head-on." He looked back down at the ground. "And thus ended the Shepherds. The only solace is that they helped take Grima down with them."

Lucina was staring numbly into the distance. Robin's words were ringing in her head. "Grima... followed me? Have I brought ruin to the world I was meant to save...?"

"Relax. Grima's basically a shell of himself right now. He had to leave his dragon form behind in order to travel through time, and the journey has probably damaged his avatar."

Lucina suddenly wheeled towards him. "..."Avatar"?"

Robin became tense, realizing that he was about to step into perilous territory. "Yes. He's confined to a human vessel right now, and because of that only has something akin to a human's strength. He needed the Fire Emblem and a sacrifice of thousands of human lives to take control of the other Grima's body and regain his full power."

The mask hid her face, but Robin could tell that Lucina was eyeing him dangerously now. "...Do you speak of the Heart of Grima?" she asked tersely.

"...Yes," he replied cautiously. He couldn't help but notice that Lucina's swordhand was beginning to drift towards Falchion's hilt.

"You know much of Grima and his nature. You wear a Grimleal coat. And you claim to have slain Grima himself with your own hand, a thing no one can do. Forgive my suspicions, "Robin", but I require explanation."

Robin backed away slowly, gauging the distance between them carefully. "Ok, you see, I used to—and I need you to understand how much I'm stressing this, _used to_ —I used to be the Heart of Grima."

Lucina stared at him a moment, then unsheathed Falchion in a slow and deliberate motion.

"Godsdammit! I said "used to"! What part of "used to" do you not understand?!" Robin yelled. He shot out his right arm, holding up the back of his hand for her to see. "Look! No Mark of Grima! I'm not linked to him anymore because I'm the one who _killed_ the bastard!"

"Ridiculous! No human can slay Grima!" Lucina shouted. "And even if you could, why would his Heart betray him?!"

" _Because he took everything from me!_ " Robin snarled. Lucina involuntarily stiffened at the ferocity of his anger.

"That monster..." Robin continued, seething. "That monster took my childhood, my family, my country, my memories, my identity, and even my friends! I hate him! I hate him with every fiber of my being! You think I _wanted_ to be the Heart of Grima, Lucina? I was never given a choice! I was _created_ to be it, like a puppet, a doll!"

Lucina stared into his eyes. In them was something that she had seen many times in the eyes of her companions, and even in her own reflection; the genuine pain of one who had experienced loss beyond measure.

She was silent for a moment, and then slowly lowered Falchion and resheathed it. "...I believe that you bear no love for Grima," she said quietly.

Robin was about to breathe a sigh of relief, but Lucina was not finished speaking.

" _However_... It would be irresponsible of me to accept your tale as truth at face value. You could be but a skilled actor, an agent of some nefarious plot. For me to be able to trust you, I must be as confident as I can of the veracity of your account. Although I cannot verify the entirety of your story, I can at least determine whether or not you are currently the Heart of Grima. Unfortunately, though, I can hardly be expected to accept one unmarked hand as sufficient proof. ...Disrobe."

Robin blinked, surprised, then after a moment began to laugh. "Hey, that was actually pretty good! The Lucina of my time couldn't tell jokes at all!"

She simply looked at him.

"...Oh gods, you're serious. Come on, we don't have to go to such lengths..." Robin fell silent a moment as Lucina's expression remained unchanged. He realized that her hand was still resting on Falchion's hilt. "...Alright, _FINE_! You think I won't call your bluff?!" Robin shouted indignantly as he began to strip off articles of clothing. "You want your proof?! Take a gooooood look, Princess!" he yelled, now completely nude. "You like what you see? Hmm?!" he asked as he turned, displaying his entire body. Lucina stood in silence, face burning crimson red beneath her mask.

She was about to admit that she required no further convincing when Chrom stepped through the brush. "Robin? Ah, there you are! Come with me, I-..."

Robin looked at Chrom.

Chrom looked at Robin.

Robin looked to a mortified Lucina. Whom Chrom probably thought was a man.

He looked down at himself.

"Uh... There was this thing about a birthmark and..." Robin sighed. "You know what, forget it. I'm not even going to bother trying to explain this." He waved dismissively to Chrom. "Just go wait over there while I put my clothes back on."

"Umm... Yeah, sure..." Chrom said in shock. "Just uh, just come find us at that fort when you're um... When you're ready," he mumbled before ambling back in the direction he had come from. Robin sighed heavily and began to get dressed.

Lucina stood fidgeting for a few moments, eyes pointedly adverted from Robin save for the occasional hasty peek to check on his progress. She only dared to approach when he had put his signature coat back on. "Robin, I apologize for..."

"Yeah yeah yeah, it's fine," Robin interrupted abruptly with a wave of his hand. "Honestly, I should probably be apologizing to _you_. I'm sure that's not how you pictured your reunion with Chrom taking place."

Lucina grimaced. She had expected a furtive meeting, the strain of preventing herself from slipping and giving away a tell towards her identity, and the effort it would take not to break down and throw herself into her father's arms. Not... Not whatever _that_ had been.

Robin sighed loudly, jolting her attention back to him. "And trust me, just the fact that you didn't actually try to stab me has earned you a few points in my book. The other you attempted to kill me for arguably less."

"...I what?"

Robin blinked, then winced. "Er, sorry, shouldn't have laid that on you out of the blue. She had her reasons, she really did. Greater good and all that. I don't resent her for it." He paused a moment, then sighed again and shook his head. "...Well, no. It hurt me. It really did. I'd never felt betrayed like that before."

"...You seem to still speak of this past me as if I were a friend, though," Lucina noted cautiously.

"I thought that she trusted me. We talked about so many things that I had started to think she had really opened up to me. And then..."

The dejection in Robin's eyes was plain to see, even though he tried to hide it. Somehow, Lucina couldn't stifle a burgeoning feeling of guilt. Had she really just now been about to strike this man down?

"Did... Did I ever apologize?" she asked.

Robin looked at her curiously. "We didn't really talk after the incident. I get the feeling that she wanted to from the way she acted afterward, but..."

"...But I died before I could," Lucina concluded for him.

He looked to the sky. The smoke high up in the air was beginning to dissipate, and a few bright stars could be made out. "...Yeah."

"...Why did I try to kill you?"

Robin frowned. Would telling her the reason, that the future-past version of him had killed her father, accomplish anything?

 _No,_ he decided. Risking her nascent trust over something that technically couldn't even have happened in this world was pointless.

"...More or less similar reasons for why you pointed your blade at me."

"...I see," Lucina said quietly, that bud of guilt flaring up once more.

Robin crossed his arms, thinking. Then he turned towards Lucina. "Lucina, will you join me?"

Lucina hesitated, surprised.

"If you don't think that you should, then I can't force you. It's obviously difficult to trust someone like me, but if-"

"I will."

"-...Huh?"

She smiled. "I will join you. I will be your comrade."

"Really? Just like that?"

"Just like that. If you mean to save the world, then our causes are bound. To challenge fate by myself when I could have help would be unthinkable."

Robin blinked. "Huh. Sorry, I just expected a bit more resistance-"

" _That said..._ "

" _There_ we go."

"If your mission is instead to end the world, then I shall be the one to end _you_."

"Yep, that's much more in line with what I was expecting." Robin was silent a moment, then suddenly laughed loud and hard. He grinned and extended his right hand. "It's good to see you again, Lucina."

Her smile was more subdued, but she reached out and shook his hand. "It's good to meet you, Robin."

* * *

It was some hours past midnight when Robin and Lucina reached the fort. Chrom and Frederick were standing outside, engaged in quiet discussion. Noticing the pair's approach, Chrom waved to them. "Robin! We've got a bit of a situation on our hands. Oh! And you brought your um..." He swallowed dryly. "... _Friend_."

Robin and Lucina both narrowed their eyes at the implication of Chrom's tone.

"My name is Chrom," he said, extending his hand amicably in introduction. Robin raised an eyebrow at Lucina. He wasn't sure how she would choose to identify herself, but the fact that she had yet to remove her mask gave him a good guess.

"...You may call me Marth," she said quietly before shaking Chrom's hand.

""Marth"?" Chrom's eyes widened, and he took Robin aside for a brief moment. "Robin, you said that guy's a time traveler, right? Is that the _actual_ Hero-King? Did he come from the past?!" he whispered.

Robin stared at him a moment, then laughed. "No, no, nothing like that. Just a shared name."

"Hmm..." Chrom shrugged. "Sorry about that," he said, turning back towards Lucina. "It's nice to meet you, Marth." He looked back to Robin. "Anyway, about that situation... You should probably come have a look at this."

Robin and Lucina wordlessly followed after him into the fort and to the interior grounds, with Frederick trailing behind them. There, Lissa, Sully, and Virion were sitting around a campfire. And with them was a stranger, who turned to look at the new arrivals. Robin and Lucina both froze in place when they met her gaze.

Lucina's eyes honed in on the brand embedded on the back of the girl's right hand, illuminated by firelight. "That's...!"

Robin looked pale. "Oh gods, it's _her_."

"Ah! So you know her?" Chrom asked.

"Erm... In a manner of speaking..." He looked to Lucina, who was fixated on the Mark of Grima. When she glanced up and caught his gaze, he shook his head subtly. _Don't do anything rash._

Robin cleared his throat and approached the fire. "Virion, Sully, it's good to see you again."

They both raised their eyebrows at him. "Who the hell are you?" Sully asked gruffly.

Robin smiled. "I missed that bluntness of yours. You don't remember me, but you can consider me an old friend."

"Old friend my ass. I don't know you from Anri."

Virion eyed Robin curiously. "It is no surprise that Virion made such an impact upon you, but I regret to admit that the archest of archers cannot recall making your acquaintance."

Sully shook her head. "Ruffles, the only impact you make on people is the desire to make an impact of their _own_. ...On you... with their fist... Dammit! People want to hit you, is what I'm trying to say!"

Robin chuckled. "Now now, don't be so hard on Virion. He's a lot more reliable than he looks. ...And acts. ...And speaks..."

The mysterious girl giggled at this, reminding Robin of her existence. He turned to address the elephant in the room.

"And whom might you be?" he asked the girl in the Plegian coat, as if he couldn't guess.

"I'm Robin, apparently!" she said chipperly.

Robin pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yep. That's what I was afraid of..."

The other Robin titled her head. "What do you mean?"

He sighed in exasperation. "My name is Robin as well."

The other Robin's eyes widened. "Seriously? That's such a strange coincidence! And we even kind of look alike too!"

"Yeah, what are the odds?" Robin muttered. "Alright, next question: Are you currently afflicted with amnesia?"

She frowned and furrowed her brow. "Yeah, but how did you know about that? I woke up in this forest, wandered around for a while, then got attacked by those things before Chrom and these guys saved me." She rapped her forehead with her knuckles. "Everything before that is a big blank."

"How _did_ you know she has amnesia, Robin? I hadn't told you that yet..." Chrom pondered.

"I'll explain that later. I have some questions of my own right now. ... _Robin..._ " He shuddered at the use of the name. "Were you able to fight against the Risen? Did you have any swords or tomes?"

"Um, just these," the girl said as she drew a bronze sword and a white tome.

Robin narrowed his eyes. "What...? That isn't a Thunder tome..." He held out his hand. "May I?" he asked.

The girl hesitated a moment, then nodded and handed him the book. Robin quietly leafed through its pages for nearly a minute, shaking his head more and more in disbelief as the seconds passed. He looked at the girl and handed her tome back to her. "What the hell is this? I've never seen anything like it."

"I don't really know how to describe it, so I'll just give you a demonstration," the girl said, standing up. She opened her tome, pointed her free hand, then shouted, " _Reflet_!"

A large bubble of prismatic light appeared, hovering in the air. "It seems to be a defensive spell," she explained. "The magic is quite sturdy." She elucidated this point by rapping the sphere with her sword. Small beads of light appeared around the area she had tapped. "And it also does this...!" she exclaimed before hopping away. Bursts of light quickly erupted from the small beads, a clear counterattack function.

Robin stared in awe until the magic dissipated and evaporated into thin air. "Could... Could it be...?" he asked in a near-daze. "But light magic was supposed to have been lost centuries ago..." He turned towards the girl. "How do you have this?"

She shrugged. "Like I said, big blank. I don't know where I got that tome or how I know how to use it."

The male Robin frowned. Something was troubling him here. The handwriting in the tome was most certainly not his, but something about it was distractingly familiar. He didn't think that it belonged to his counterpart either, yet an unpleasant sensation was clawing at his brain all the same. He was certain he had seen it before, some time in the haze of his lost memories. Not from Validar, not from Aversa. Then who?

Robin's eyes widened as a possibility occurred to him. "...Mother?" he whispered in shock.

"Huh?" the other Robin asked, confused.

Male Robin shook his head. "Sorry, it's nothing. Don't worry about it." Best not to raise questions even he didn't have the answers for.

Chrom coughed politely. "So, Robin..."

"Yes?" the two asked simultaneously.

"Ugh!" the male groaned. "Ok, _that_ is getting nipped in the bud right now. We _cannot_ share a name," he said as he pointed to the female Robin. "One of us has to go by something else, and it sure as hell isn't going to be me!"

"What?! That's no fair! How come you get to be Robin?"

"Because I _am_ Robin! I've been Robin for as long as I can remember!"

"So have I!"

"Yeah, for one whole day!"

Chrom sighed heavily before moving to break apart the pair's bickering. "Ok, ok, settle down you two," he said, holding each of them apart by the lapels of their coats.

Male Robin sighed and folded his arms. "Chrom, trust me when I say that we're all going to be interacting with each other for a very long time. The two of us being called the same thing will just bring one headache after another. And _I_ have no intention of changing my name. It's all I have to remember my old life by, and I refuse to give it away."

" _My_ name is the only thing I know about myself!" Female Robin snapped. "Why should I give it up for some asshole I met a minute ago?!"

"Hmm... The only thing, you say?" Robin murmured quietly to himself. It had been so long since the first time that he had woken up in the field that he had forgotten the aching pain of not knowing who he was. A pang of sympathy struck him.

"...Look, I know not knowing who you are is scary. Trust me, I've been through it myself."

The other Robin tilted her head. "What?"

"Three years ago, I woke up in a field, memory-free. Just like you. I know what you're going through right now. And I also know that you think that getting back your memories is your only goal right now, because you feel like there's this big gaping hole inside of you."

"...How did you...?" she murmured, hands going to her head.

Male Robin looked Female Robin in the eyes intensely. "Believe me when I say that some things are better left forgotten. If your previous life was anything like I think it was, then you'd be much happier starting anew. Not many people get the chance you've been given. You can become a whole new you, one completely of your own choosing." He grimaced. "I wish I had known that a lot sooner myself."

"A new me...?" the girl said quietly. "...But why do I have to change? What was wrong with the old me?"

"Nothing that you could be blamed for."

The girl looked uncertain, and winced as her hands went to her head again. "...Chrom, what should I do?" she asked, eyes pleading for an answer.

Chrom shook his head. "I can't tell you that. Nobody but you can. What does your heart say, Robin?"

"I... I don't know..." She looked up. "...But it's _my_ heart, right? Regardless of memories, this heart belongs to me, and no one else."

Lucina shifted uncomfortably, but to Robin's relief managed to maintain her silence.

Female Robin looked back to Male Robin. "Tell me. Why do you want to keep your name so badly?"

"...I'll let you in on a secret. Those memories I had? The ones I lost? I never got them back. And I don't think I ever will."

The girl's eyes widened.

"But that's ok, because I made new memories, with all of the people who became precious to me. And now, those memories are all I have left of my friends. I am not Robin just because that was the name I had when I woke up. I am Robin because that was the name I had when I lived my life alongside those people."

The girl stared at him for a few moments. Then she sighed, and smiled. "That's quite a lot of weight for one name to carry."

The male Robin smiled as well. "My name is my most important possession."

The female Robin considered a moment. "...Alright. I'll take a new name. I'll write my own memories, my own life," she proclaimed, looking upward with an air of triumph about her. This disappeared a moment later as she looked back at Robin with a blank face. "...I have no idea what I want to be called."

"Hmm... How about..." Robin pointed to his counterpart's personalized tome. "..."Reflet"?"

"Huh?"

"I can tell you right now, that tome is utterly unique." He smiled. "Just like you."

"It's a very pretty name," Chrom noted.

The girl looked at Chrom curiously for a moment, then grinned and turned towards Robin. "Alright, then. I'm Reflet! Nice to meet you!"

Robin shook hands with her. "Nice to meet you as well, Reflet."

Reflet turned towards Lucina. "Hello. I'm sorry, I got so caught up in all that that I forgot to greet you. I'm Reflet."

"...I go by Marth," Lucina said quietly, accepting Reflet's offered handshake. Lucina's eyes lingered on the Mark of Grima when they separated.

Robin took Chrom off to the side. "Will Reflet be coming with you to Ylisstol?"

"Yes. From what little we've managed to gleam from talking with her, apparently she knows a thing or two about tactics. I haven't broached the subject with her yet, but the Shepherds-"

Robin looked dumbstruck, as if he had been struck by lightning. "Of course! Of course she knows tactics! This is great!"

"...Robin?"

Robin cleared his throat. "Sorry, sorry. Just realized something important."

"...Robin, just who is Reflet? And how do you know about her?"

Robin frowned. "I'm not entirely sure how I can explain this without sounding like a raving loon, so we'll just simplify the story and say she's something like my twin sister."

Chrom was surprised. "She's your sister? What kind of sadistic parent would name their children the same thing?"

He grimaced. "Believe me, that probably would have been the least of his crimes. And boy, are _you_ going to be in for a fun time when we run into the Secret Sellers... Anyway, I know this is abrupt, but Marth and I won't be coming back with you to Ylisstol after all."

Chrom raised his eyebrows. "What? Why the sudden change of mind?"

"I had thought that it would be necessary for me to stick close to the Shepherds so that I could play the roles I had in my own time. However, with Reflet here now, that's no longer necessary. Right now I can probably do more good moving about at my own discretion."

Chrom frowned. "I see... Can't say I'm happy about it, though. My world's been flipped on its head over the course of a single day, and I get the feeling that there's a lot more to come that you aren't telling me about."

Robin glanced at Lucina. "You have _no_ idea."

"Why are you hiding things from me? Do you not trust me?"

Robin shook his head hastily. "No, no, it's not like that at all. You're probably the person I trust the most, Chrom. It's just that I don't have clairvoyance. I only have experience. If events are altered too much, then my foresight could become useless, and we might get blind-sided by a catastrophe that puts us even worse off than before. So for now, everything's on a need-to-know basis."

Chrom sighed and crossed his arms. "I still don't like it, but alright. So where will you and... _Marth_... By the way Robin, about earlier..."

"It's not like that. It was just a misunderstanding."

"Robin, I'm not a judgmental person. It's alright with me if you two are-"

"It's. Not. Like. That." Robin said through gritted teeth.

Chrom put his hands up defensively. "Ok, ok. Sorry. Anyway, where are you two going? Will we see you again?"

"Can't say where we're headed. But we'll meet again quite soon, I promise you."

"Very well then. Take care," Chrom said, clasping Robin's hand.

"You as well, my friend," Robin replied.

Robin was about to gesture to Lucina to follow him when he remembered something. He turned back towards Chrom. "One more thing before we take our leave. Tell Duke Themis to beef up his border security. Plegians are going to raze a village near his border, and his daughter's going to be kidnapped by Gangrel and his men. Gangrel will claim that Ylisseans assaulted him and will try to ransom Maribelle for the Fire Emblem."

Chrom's eyes widened in shock. "...If I hadn't seen the undead rain from the sky a few hours ago I wouldn't have believed a word of what you just said."

Robin grinned. "But you do believe now."

Chrom sighed. "Yeah, yeah. I'll take care of it. Travel safely."

Robin nodded, then called "Marth" over. She gave Chrom a curt nod while Robin waved his farewells to the Shepherds, then the two departed from the fort. They made their way through the forest for some time before they finally found their way back onto the trail that would lead them to the nearest village.

"I'm surprised you haven't said anything about Reflet's brand," Robin noted.

"Without the knowledge that she is the Heart of Grima, she poses little threat by herself. Especially when we will be able to supervise her," Lucina explained. She glanced at him. "...Besides, such a nature need not necessarily be an indictment against the girl herself."

Robin smiled. "...I see."

"Still, to think that Lady Rob—...Forgive me, Lady _Reflet_ —was the Heart of Grima all along... It beggars belief."

Robin put his hands behind his head. "That means she was fighting her fate all along. Just like us."

Lucina frowned pensively. "...Perhaps so."

"...By the way, you don't have to wear that around me," Robin noted.

"Hmm?"

"The mask. You don't need it around me, you know."

"Oh. I suppose you're right." She removed it and slipped it into her satchel. "I think I'll keep my hair up, though. It's quite a bother to redo."

"Wait, that's not a haircut? Gods know what kind of witchcraft keeps it tucked up like that."

"It is not witchcraft. It is merely a complex-"

"That was an exaggeration for comedic effect."

"...Oh."

Lucina fell silent, and remained so for quite some time as they walked. It took Robin longer than he cared to admit to realize that she wasn't brooding over not understanding a joke.

 _Of course! She just met her dead father and couldn't say anything to him about it! Gods, I_ am _an idiot..._

"...He was proud of you, you know," Robin said off-handedly.

"Huh?"

"Chrom. Well, the Chrom I knew. But give this one some time too and I'm sure he'll think the same thing."

"...Truly?"

"Yeah. He loved you with all of his heart."

Lucina was quiet a few moments, then sniffled and rubbed at her eyes.

Robin blinked. "Ah, sorry. I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories."

She shook her head, smiling. "No, thank you. What you said has made me very happy."

Robin's face flushed and he looked away, scratching his head. "Think nothing of it."

Lucina looked around. "It just occurred to me that I hadn't asked about our destination. Where are we headed?"

Robin grinned and ground a fist into his palm. "To Regna Ferox. We have a contest to rig."


	4. Shepherds

Dawn had yet to break when Robin and Lucina entered the small town. Robin glanced at his companion. Although she was trying to hide it, it was obvious that Lucina was battling against exhaustion. Clearly, she had not hopped out of (a presumably metaphorical, all things considered) bed and straight into the time portal; she and her friends must have fought their way to it, and given Lucina's near-superhuman resiliency, it had to have been quite a grueling struggle to have drained her so.

"Alright, we'll stop here," Robin decided, stretching his arms behind his back. "Let's find an inn and get some rest."

Lucina was clearly nonplussed at this suggestion. "We can press on. Time is of the essence, and there's no need to dally here. We'll stop when we have to."

Robin frowned. "Hey, you're not fooling me. You're dead on your feet. You need some sleep. We _both_ do, actually. Dimension-leaping seems to take a slight toll on the body."

"I am used to traveling for long periods without rest. If we-"

"Lucina. When was the last time you slept in an actual bed?"

She glanced upward. "Shortly before we used it for kindling..."

"And when was the last time you actually slept a whole night through?"

Lucina pursed her lips.

"You're not in that hellscape anymore," Robin continued gently. "You don't have to be on edge all the time. It's alright to get a good night's sleep every once in a while, and you're safe to do so here." He grinned cheekily. "Besides, even if something did try to attack you, I'm plenty strong enough to protect you."

Lucina sighed. She didn't wish to concede the issue, but it was difficult to fight against both Robin's persistence _and_ the drooping of her eyelids. "...Very well," she said softly. "Unfortunately, I do not have money for a room."

"Ah, don't worry about that," Robin smiled as he drew a moderately-sized coin pouch. "Your father paid me quite well for my work. We don't have anything to worry about." He paused. "...Assuming the currency of this Ylisse is the same as in the one I came from."

* * *

Ylisstol was thrumming, a thriving city undisturbed by the nightmares that now plagued the countrysides. Reflet couldn't help but gawk as she, Chrom, Frederick, Lissa, and Virion walked through the main market street (Sully had rode ahead of the party to deliver the news of the Risen to the Exalt). While most experiences were now novel to her, the scale of the capital Reflet found staggering.

"There are so many people," she breathed in awe. "All living their own unique lives at the same time. Isn't it amazing?"

Chrom smiled. "It certainly is. Sometimes I take it all for granted, but it's a wonderful thing that all these people can live together in peace."

Frederick raised an eyebrow. "Would that _every_ person lived in harmony."

Chrom chuckled. "Right, not everyone follows the rules. But that's where we come in."

Reflet looked up to him. "So you "Shepherds" are a peacekeeping outfit?"

Chrom nodded. "That's right. We watch over the flock, as it were. Protect them from the wolves." He frowned. "And now these "Risen", as Robin called them, I suppose."

Reflet stared at him a moment, then surveyed the crowd pensively. An image of a red-eyed monster bearing down on her flashed through her mind. She shuddered and unconsciously shifted a bit closer to Chrom as they walked. "...Will these people be safe from the Risen here?" she asked him.

"The Knights of Ylisse take pride in their unwavering service," Frederick answered. "Not a one of those foul creatures will ever walk past this fair city's walls."

Reflet tilted her head. "What if somebody catapulted them in? ...What? Why are you all looking at me like that?"

Chrom blinked. "I uh, don't think we need to be overly concerned about that possibility. Rest assured the people inside the city are safe. It's the other people out there who most need our help."

Reflet rubbed her arm, staring downcast at the ground. "...I suppose some people won't be as lucky as I was."

Chrom placed a hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps not, but I intend to protect as many of those unfortunate souls as I can."

She looked up to him. "...I don't think I would be here now if it wasn't for you. I don't want anyone to go through that fear I felt before you rescued me. If you want to save people, then I want to help you."

Chrom was surprised a moment, then smiled broadly. "That's great! I was going to wait for an appropriate time to ask you to be the Shepherds' tactician, but now works fine too. What do you say?"

Reflet smiled. "Well, it's not like I had other plans! ...I think."

"Yay! Welcome to the Shepherds, Reflet!" Lissa cheered as she hugged the tactician.

"Excellent!" Chrom glanced to his notably silent attendant. "...Frederick? Anything you want to say about this?"

"Such as?"

"I don't know, I just kind of expected you to be against it."

"Oh I _am_ against it, make no mistake. While so far I have seen no ill character from Miss Reflet, her convenient amnesia and connection to that dastard Robin draw no small amount of suspicion from me. I have simply resigned myself to the fact that you will ignore my concerns and do as you please."

"Who is Robin anyway?" Reflet asked. "And how did he know so much about me?"

Chrom frowned, unsure if it was his place to reveal what Robin had said about the two being twins. However, if it was something he didn't want Reflet to know, Robin probably would have asked Chrom to keep it a secret. "He said that he's your twin brother," Chrom replied.

Reflet's jaw dropped. "My brother?! But why didn't he say anything about that to me?!"

Chrom scratched his head. "Robin is... an enigma. He claims to have come from the future. I don't understand half the things he says or does, but he seems to have his reasons."

Reflet's brow furrowed. "From the future? That sounds ridiculous. But hell, what do I know? If you had asked me yesterday morning I would've said zombies were ridiculous too." She put her hand to her chin. "But wait. If he really does come from the future, and we're twins, then doesn't that logically lead to me being from the future as well?"

Chrom blinked. "Umm... Maybe?"

Reflet raised an eyebrow, clearly dissatisfied with his answer.

"Er, I mean, I have no way of knowing. But I don't think it really matters too much either way. What's important is the here and now. ...And he _did_ seem a little older than you, for what that's worth."

Reflet frowned. She looked like she was about to say something when she was distracted by a commotion on a side street. People were beginning to group up excitedly in the center where a woman surrounded by a handful of guards was passing by. "What's going on over there?" Reflet asked.

"It is high noon," Frederick explained. "The Exalt is taking her daily walk through the streets."

"The Exalt?" Reflet questioned.

"The ruler of our people, Lady Emmeryn."

Virion grinned, his hand on his chin contemplatively. "My, but what a ravishing beauty your exalt is. Hmm... Were House Virion to become better acquai- Urk!" Virion grimaced in pain, then glanced to his shoulder, where Frederick's gauntleted hand was holding him in a powerful vicegrip.

"Sir Virion," Frederick smiled icily. "The crest on the handle of the knife in your boot speaks volumes to the dalliances you have had with the noble houses of Ylisse, but the royal family is one that you will not forge such... _alliances_ with. _Am I clear_?"

Virion eyed him uneasily. "As crystal, my friend. But dear Sir Frederick, did no one yet tell you that you are at your most terrifying when you smile?"

Reflet tilted her head as she watched the procession. Something was bothering her. "Your ruler just walks the streets, lightly guarded?"

Chrom smiled. "Emmeryn represents the best in all of us. She's the living embodiment of peace, and we Ylisseans take pride in her. No one would raise a hand against her."

Reflet narrowed her eyes. "That's incredibly naive."

Chrom blinked in surprise. ""Naive"? Isn't that a bit of a strong word for someone new to the world to be throwing around?"

Reflet shrugged. "Chrom, just because I can't remember the entirety of yesterday doesn't mean I was _born_ during it."

Lissa tugged on Reflet's sleeve. "Hey, don't worry! Even if there _was_ someone who wanted to hurt Emm, they'd have to go through Chrom to get to her! No one's dumb enough to try that!"

Reflet looked to the Chrom. "Are you the Exalt's bodyguard?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "No, not quite. I'm her brother."

Reflet's eyes went wide, and when she looked from Emmeryn's forehead to Chrom's exposed shoulder her jaw dropped. "H-Her brother?! But then that would make you... Oh my gods, you're a prince! Damn, damn, should I, uh, curtsy or um, or, or, _something_ , milord?!"

Chrom put his hands up, grinning with mild embarassment. "Woah, please don't get overexcited. I hate formalities. You don't need to treat me any differently than you have up till now."

Reflet blinked. "Oh. Um... You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Uh, ok then, Chrom..." She looked to Lissa, who had crossed her arms and was tapping her foot. "Something wrong, Lissa?"

"Why aren't you saying anything about _me_ being a princess?" she asked in a huff.

"Oh! My apologies, your, uh... ladyship?"

Lissa snickered. "Ok, you don't have to call me _that_."

Reflet grinned and poked Lissa in the side. "Alright, how about your Royal Highness? Or maybe Her August Majesty?" Lissa laughed and swatted at Reflet's hand.

The party continued their walk in an amiable atmosphere, which remained uninterrupted until a particular vendor caught Reflet's eye. She immediately bolted to the stall, eyes wide with delight as she beheld a varied assortment of books. "Chrom, come check this out!" she called to him, already flipping through the pages of a worn bestiary.

"Do you read much?" Chrom asked.

"Possibly? I get the feeling that I do. No harm in finding out!" Reflet began digging through her pockets, but after a few moments of fruitless searching paused. "...I don't think I have any money." She wheeled around to face the prince. "Chrom, will you buy this for me?" she asked.

Chrom gave a blank expression; he hadn't been expecting this question. "Um, I'm sorry, but I don't think I should."

"What? Come on, you're a prince! You're loaded! What's one little book?"

"It's _because_ I'm a prince. I have to treat everyone the same. I can't just go around buying things for my friends. If I display that sort of favortism, I-"

Chrom was about to go further with his point, but the words caught in his throat when he looked into Reflet's pleading eyes. He tried his damnedest to resist, but the overwhelming urge to remove the cause of the disappointed expression on her face proved too strong for him to overcome.

"Alright, alright," he sighed, digging out a coin pouch. "But just _one_ book, understand?"

"Yes! Thank you, Chrom!" Reflet shouted excitedly.

Chrom had been raised as royalty. He had been taught from a young age that he must walk among the people yet stand above them; that he must be kind yet impartial; that he must be stalwart and unyielding. And all that had gone straight out the window in the face of a pretty girl. Chrom had never thought himself immune to the guiles of feminine charm, but this was the first time he had been made to feel _powerless_. He watched Reflet haggle with the vendor over the volume that held her interest, and he could see her eyes light up as another book caught her attention. Already, he accepted that he was inevitably going to end up buying that one for her as well, try as hard as he might to restrain himself from doing so. Chrom was enslaved to a force beyond his understanding.

"...Frederick, do you remember when my life used to be comprehensible?" he asked dejectedly.

"Yes, and I vastly preferred it that way."

* * *

Lucina slowly opened her eyes. For several moments she lay still, unperturbed by thought or motion. Then she blinked in alarm and bolted upright, eyes darting about the room.

Robin looked up from the book he was reading. "Ah, so you've returned to the living! I know I'm the one who was pushing for you to rest up, but I wasn't expecting you to be out for quite _that_ long."

Lucina breathed out to steady herself as remembrance flooded back. That was right. They were in a small inn. In the past. "They" being herself and a man apparently from a _different_ future. She could hardly believe that it wasn't a dream; that their desperate final gambit had worked. _Twice_ , even, according to Robin. She glanced at him. Lucina had attempted to mentally prepare herself for any number of situations that could arise in this timeline, but _he_ was by far the least expected. Still, the fact that he hadn't slit her throat in her sleep probably boded well for his long-term trustworthiness, and, in all honesty, knowing that she had had someone safeguarding her as she slept did give her a small sense of security.

She looked around the room more appraisingly. It had been the only vacant one, and was small and lightly furnished. In spite of her protests, Robin had insisted on giving her the bed. Now he was sitting in a chair in the corner, looking surprisingly well-rested for someone who had slept on the floor.

Lucina groggily rubbed an eye with the palm of her hand, looking down on the clothes from last night that she was still wearing. (Robin hadn't needed to insist on that.) "H-How long did I sleep for?"

"Oh, a good sixteen or so hours."

" _S-Sixteen_?!" Lucina spluttered.

"I'm kind of impressed. I mean, I got nearly twelve hours myself, but I didn't think it was possible to go much farther beyond that," Robin remarked idly as he flipped a page. "I already finished my Hell Hour and I'm nearly halfway through this book!"

Lucina tilted her head. "..."Hell Hour"?"

Robin waved a hand. "My personal nickname for "Frederick's Fanatical Fitness Hour". I hope that bastard's happy that I'm keeping it up even without him around to nag me about it."

His eyes suddenly widened as he realized what he said, and his expression softened. "...I can't believe he's actually gone..."

Lucina stared at him. "...Robin?"

The tactician blinked. "Sorry, sorry. Don't mind me. Everything that happened was just so sudden. I don't think I've processed it all quite yet." He gestured around. "And being in this timeline where everyone's still alive and healthy isn't exactly doing any favors in that regard."

Lucina looked out the window. "Yes... It is quite an adjustment, isn't it?"

A grimace appeared on Robin's face. He wanted this partnership to start off on a pleasant note, and here he was bringing the mood down. He was about to make an attempt at changing the topic when Lucina balled the sheets in her fists and suddenly groaned. " _Sixteen hours!_ How could I be so slothful? It's practically sinful!"

Robin raised his eyebrows in surprise, momentarily caught off guard. "Um, don't worry. It's to be expected, given the world you just came from. You've been pushing your body far beyond its limit for a while now. It's natural for it to jump at a chance for recovery. Frankly, I'd like for you to be able to rest up for even longer, perhaps a week or so, but unfortunately we don't have the luxury of quite that much time." He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. "Still, I didn't know it was even _possible_ to sleep for sixteen hours in a row. Can you do that at will, or only after times of extreme stress? I wonder if any of the other time travelers could top that..." He looked back to her. "Which, by the way, is on the to-do list. ...Finding your friends, I mean. Not some insane, Miriel-esque sleep-deprivation experiment."

Lucina suddenly sat upright as if she had realized something, then looked at Robin with wide eyes. "You know where they are, don't you?"

Robin scratched his head. "Um, well, vaguely. I have a general idea for most of them based on where we found them in my world, but you all popped out in varying times and places. Some of them probably haven't arrived yet, and nearly half of them aren't even on this continent. Unfortunately, I don't think there's a single one of them close enough that we can afford to make an immediate detour. And that's not even factoring in possible changes that weren't present in my world."

Lucina's shoulders slumped a bit. "I see..."

Robin regarded her a moment. "Hey, don't worry. We'll find them all. Once this business with Plegia is settled we should have nearly a year before we have to deal with the Valmese. That's plenty of time to track all the ones on this continent down."

Lucina looked up at him. "...Is my sister here? What of my cousin?"

Robin swallowed. "I'm sorry. Cynthia and Owain are both in Valm. It's probably going to be awhile before you can see them again."

Lucina bit her lip, then sighed. "...I understand." She sighed, and inaudibly mouthed two names. _Cynthia. Owain._ A string of syllables followed shortly afterwards.

 _A prayer of safekeeping,_ Robin guessed. Such a thing wasn't a practice he partook in, but far be it from him to judge; he knew from first-hand experience that there were far worse gods than Naga to pray to.

He waited patiently for her to finish, then clapped his book shut. "So, I'm sure you're starving. We'll hit the tavern before we set off."

Lucina's only response was the audible growl of her stomach, causing her to look down sheepishly at her midriff. Robin cracked a small grin. Lucina sighed and swung her legs out from under the covers. As she hadn't undressed before going to bed, she simply reached down to pull her boots back on. She grabbed her tiara and mask from the nightstand, then strapped Falchion back onto her belt. She stood up, running her hands through her hair to mat down a few stray strands. "Let's just be quick about it..." she muttered as she made for the door.

* * *

Lucina tore into a turkey leg, ripping out a massive chunk like a savage predator. Robin took a sip of his mead as he watched her toss the now barren bone into a rapidly growing pile.

"Slow down," he advised. "It's probably been a while since you've been able to eat like this. Your stomach won't be able to handle the rate you're going at. You're going to get indigestion if you aren't careful." He took another sip. "Also, chewing your food might be something to look into."

"It's- It's _sooooo_ good!" Lucina practically sobbed in between mouthfuls of bread, eyes gleaming with moisture. "People can just eat like this every day?!"

Robin glanced at the many dishes strewn about the table. "Well, some people. Royalty, for example. ...Which you technically are. Rendering the joke moot."

"Hmm?"

"Never mind. Point being, don't get used to eating like this just yet. We're going to be foraging once we get to traveling."

Lucina looked at him blankly for a moment, then swallowed. She sighed. "Oh. I see. Back to hunting for lizards then, I suppose."

"What? No. I meant like deer and bear and stuff."

Lucina's eyes immediately widened and her mouth dropped in amazement. Robin sighed. "You've really been through hell, huh?"

Lucina glanced downward. "Well..."

Robin waited for her to say something more, but she remained silent. He sighed again and held out a lamb shank to her. "Look, let's not dwell on that. That's all in the past. ...Kind of. Sort of. What I'm trying to say here is, I'm going to make sure that no one else is ever going to have to go through what you went through. So cheer up. Eat, drink, bleed me dry of all my hard-earned disposable income. Ok?"

She hesitated, then accepted the proffered food. She bit a piece off lightly, chewing slowly. She gulped. "...It's good," she said quietly. "Thank you."

"What? Come on, where's the gusto you had a minute ago?" Robin asked, gesturing with a chicken leg. "Isn't it the best damn lamb you've ever had?" he grinned.

Lucina looked at him a moment, then gave a soft smile. "It really is," she replied. "...Pass the beef stew, please."

* * *

Chrom drummed his fingers against the table. Around him, councilmen bickered about some petty dispute over succession for one of the smaller noble houses of Ylisse. He sighed; he despised sitting in on council meetings, but the Risen and Robin's cryptic warnings gave him little choice. He would just have to be patient. He could endure the prattle as long as the issues that mattered were eventually addressed.

Ten minutes later he slammed his fist on the furnished mahogany. "Gods _above_ , can we _please_ move on to the more important issue at hand?!" he yelled.

The council members went silent a moment, then began murmuring amongst each other about the prince's rudeness. Emmeryn raised an eyebrow at her younger brother, who shrugged sheepishly in response.

The Exalt cleared her throat, and the chatter immediately ceased. "My brother's breach of protocol notwithstanding, I believe that the matter he speaks of warrants our full attention."

"You refer to these preposterous tales of the walking dead?" the hierophant, Cornelius, asked.

"Not tales," Chrom said firmly. "Truth. I've encountered them myself."

"What fragmented transcripts of the Book of Naga we have tell that the damned will only roam the earth when the Fell Dragon rises again," the hierophant replied. "Would you really have us believe that such a calamity is about to transpire?"

Chrom thought back to Robin's words. _The work of the Fell Dragon, Grima._ He looked Cornelius in the eyes. "It's not impossible."

"Oh, but it is!" an aged councilman exclaimed. "Your father made damned sure of that, Naga rest his soul! It'll be centuries before the Plegians grow bold enough to try to revive their devil god again. And if they do, then once more we'll ride down and put those filthy _sand_ -"

" _Cromwell!_ "

Emmeryn's single word was so sharp, so cutting, that for a moment it seemed that every other person in the room had forgotten how to speak. She glared at the retired general, but her voice was as calm and as placating as ever. "I have not forgotten your loyal service to my father, and I am grateful for it. But I will not tolerate you speaking of our friends and neighbors in such a reprehensible manner. Am I understood?"

Cromwell grimaced. "...Yes, Your Excellence."

Emmeryn smiled. "Good. Now, Chrom, I believe you had more to say about these creatures?"

Chrom blinked. It was such an incredibly rare sight that he had forgotten how terrifying an angry Emmeryn could be. He cleared his throat. "...As I was saying, the rumors are true. These "Risen" as I've heard them called, are no small threat. They lack intelligence, but they're horrifyingly powerful and merciless. Already I fear what is becoming of the farmers unfortunate enough to be close-by to where they've been appearing."

A councilwoman nodded. "The reports of exhumed corpses have indeed mostly come from farmers. Some claim to have lost their homes and entire families to the monsters. And more and more of these reports are beginning to trickle in."

"If this threat _is_ credible, then the people must have protection," a councilman said.

"True enough," Cromwell agreed. "However, our army is not what it once was. We lack the numbers needed to patrol the countryside, and even if we had them, we could ill afford to leave the Plegian border unguarded."

Chrom scratched his chin. "We can't rely on conscription. The people can still remember what the last round of that was like, and they won't take it kindly. But we don't have enough soldiers..." He sighed. "We need help. It would be nice if we could just ask Plegia for some neighborly assistance, but..."

Emmeryn frowned, pensive. "...Then perhaps our other neighbor?"

Chrom raised his eyebrows. "Regna Ferox? I mean, we have a neutrality pact with them, but I don't think they'd be keen on rushing to the aid of outsiders."

"I do not believe that we have better alternatives. Can you suggest any?"

Chrom sighed. "I suppose it's worth a shot." The council members murmured in agreement.

"Very well. It is decided then. Chrom, I order you and your Shepherds to Regna Ferox. Ply the Khan for military aid so that we may protect our citizens from these unholy monsters."

Chrom stood up from the table. "Understood. We'll set off immediately." He made his way over to Emmeryn and leaned in to whisper into her ear. "Sister. I have something I need to tell you about in private."

Emmeryn nodded. She turned her head back towards the council. "Friends, we will end our session here today. We will give the complaints of House Sterner their due attention when we reconvene tomorrow." A few members seemed put off by this decision, but the council quickly gathered their papers and exited the room.

* * *

Outside the council room, Reflet flipped a page of the second of three books Chrom had bought for her. "Say, Lissa, do you ever sit in on those meetings?"

Lissa stuck out her tongue. "No way! Even if I could stand them, they wouldn't let me!"

Reflet seemed surprised. ""Wouldn't let you"? But aren't you a princess?"

"Yeah, and I wish people would treat me more like one!" She glanced at her attendant, who had been about to say something in protest. "You don't count, Frederick!"

The Knight Commander chuckled. "Your desire to bear the full weight of your station is admirable, milady, but I would advise enjoying a carefree youth while you still can."

"Being royalty must be nice," Reflet remarked as she turned another page. Virion looked like he was about to say something, but thought better of it.

Lissa was about to contest that it wasn't all servants and nice food when the door opened. The council members slowly filed out of the room, causing Lissa to perk up in her chair. "Oh! They're done! But where are Chrom and Emm?"

A silver-haired woman stepped out of the room last.

"Well met, Phila," Frederick nodded.

"And you, Frederick," she replied. "Forgive me. If my pegasus knights had been patrolling the border, those bandits..."

Frederick shook his head. "At a time like this, they belong in the capital, guarding the exalt. You did your duty, and I did mine."

Phila frowned, but nodded. "Right." She turned towards Reflet. "Miss Reflet, is it? Lord Chrom wishes to introduce you to Lady Emmeryn."

Reflet blinked, then closed her book. "Um, sure."

* * *

Emmeryn took a sip of tea. "I owe you and Frederick my thanks, Chrom. I've heard word of your deeds in Southtown. If not for you two, I fear the city would have been lost."

Chrom shrugged. "We only had a hand in that. You owe your thanks to a man named Robin."

"Oh? And where is he?"

"Uh... Honestly I have no idea," Chrom said as he prodded the handle of his still-full teacup. "He kind of took off in the dead of night."

Emmeryn frowned and set her cup of tea down. "...I see. Well then, I can only hope that I may meet him someday."

Chrom steepled his hands together. "...Sister, there's something you should know. That man, Robin, said he traveled back through time, and had been a friend to all of us. He knew-" Chrom paused, then chuckled at the memory of Frederick's crimson face, "-certain _things_ about us that no stranger could know, and we wouldn't have reached Southtown in time if he hadn't warned us of an imminent bandit attack."

Emmeryn pursed her lips. "A time traveler? That is quite the auspicious claim, Chrom."

He nodded. "Indeed. Ordinarily, I'd be a bit more dismissive, but recent events have, shall we say, opened my perspectives."

Emmeryn frowned. "The Risen?"

"Emm, I _watched_ the Risen come into this world, through giant holes in the sky. When you see living corpses fall from the night while the earth shakes and bleeds lava around you, you tend to become a bit more accepting of the paranormal. Not to mention, I saw a _human_ travel through those gates. That alone is enough to cement Robin's credence in my eyes."

Emmeryn was silent for a moment, then sighed. "I know you would not be telling me this story if you did not believe it will all your heart, Chrom. I'll trust in you and assume it's all true. ...So, you saw this man Robin travel through time?"

"No. Someone else."

Emmeryn raised her eyebrows. " _Another_ time traveler?"

"Yes. A young man named after the Hero-King of old. Robin didn't give much detail, but it seems that he umm-" Chrom was now recalling _Marth's_ crimson face, and he hastened to blot out that memory before it brought the rest of itself into full focus. "-... _Knew_ this Marth person."

"...The matter of how they did so aside, why would these two travel to their past? To aid us against the Risen?"

Chrom sighed. "I wish it was so simple. ...Robin warns of a looming war with Plegia."

Emmeryn's eyes went wide. "I know there has been tension between our two countries as of late, but surely not enough to incite war?! Surely this can be prevented!"

"Robin seems pretty resigned to it happening. He says Mad King Gangrel is the one pushing for it."

"Then with all haste, I must arrange a meeting with him and-"

"Emm. No."

Emmeryn blinked, and looked at her brother with surprise. Chrom rarely spoke this firmly with his sisters.

Chrom sighed and shook his head. "He's called Mad King for a reason. You're not going to be able to placate him with words of peace."

"That cannot be said for sure."

Chrom grimaced and thought back to Robin's words.

 _I might be the only thing standing between Emmeryn and an untimely death._

"...Emm, I think that if you try and do this, something bad's going to happen you. Something really bad."

"...Even were that to be true, I would gladly pay any price to myself if it prevented another war."

Chrom grit his teeth and was about to shout when the door opened, Phila guiding Reflet in. He bit down his frustration. "We're not done speaking about this," he said quietly. "Promise me you won't do anything crazy while I'm away."

Emmeryn sighed, then nodded. "As you wish." She smiled and turned towards the newcomer. "Greetings. I am the exalt, Emmeryn. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Reflet hesitated a moment, then curtsied. "My name is Reflet."

Emmeryn smiled wider and turned back toward Chrom with eyebrows raised. "Hmm... Chrom has never wanted to introduce me to a woman before... Well, you _are_ at that age, Chrom..."

Chrom went red-faced, immediately understanding her implication. " _What?!_ "

Reflet blinked. "Huh?"

Chrom stood up from the table. "Hahaha! Emm, I think you're jumping to rather hasty conclusions! This is Reflet, the new tactician of the Shepherds!"

Emmeryn smiled coyly. "Oh, is that so?"

"Yes, it most certainly is!" Chrom said loudly. "In fact, she should go meet the rest of the Shepherds _right now_! Come on, let's go Reflet!" He grabbed her by the wrist and all but dragged her out of the room.

"Huh? Uh, ok, I guess... Goodbye, Lady Emmeryn!" Reflet called.

Emmeryn smiled and waved back before the doors closed. She was silent a moment as Phila refilled her tea. "Phila, what did you see just now?" she asked.

The Wing Commander smirked. "Certainly nothing that is my place to comment on."

Emmeryn laughed.

* * *

Robin clutched a turkey sandwich in his mouth as he spread out a map of Ylisse. He spat the sandwich into his hand, then pointed with the other. "Alright, this is where we currently are," he explained between bites of food. "We'll head west until we hit this river, bathe, wash our clothes, and refill our waterskins, then we'll follow this trail until we reach Northtown. We'll buy you a cloak or something while we're there; that outfit probably isn't sufficient protection from Regna Ferox's climate. We'll probably run out of food before then, so we'll hunt for game along the way."

"You're forgetting something," Lucina mumbled, gnawing on a potato.

Robin raised an eyebrow. "Hmm?"

"Practice swords. For sparring."

Robin chuckled. "Of course. I should have known."

Lucina smiled. "Well, it's natural for me to be curious about the strength of the man who supposedly slew Grima, is it not?" she asked playfully.

Robin grinned. "Fair enough, but we don't actually _need_ practice swords."

Lucina looked at him, puzzled. "Are you suggesting we needn't train ourselves?"

Robin shook his head. "Not at all." He stood up to his full height, then drew his silver sword with a quick flourish. "I'm saying we already have what we need to do so."

The princess's eyes widened. "You wish to spar with _real_ weapons?! But what if I accidentally hurt you?!"

Robin smirked cockily. "Don't you worry about that. You won't even be able to _touch_ me."

Lucina narrowed her eyes. "You will not goad me."

Robin nodded. "Good, good. Being hard to rile up is an excellent trait. But I'm not trying to bait you here. One, practicing with wooden swords is disingenuous when you're going to be swinging around metal. You need to feel the full weight of your weapon in training to be able to wield it properly in battle. Practice swords might deceive you into thinking you can perform techniques that are still beyond you. And two..." His grin returned. "I really meant it when I said you won't be able to touch me."

Lucina's brows wrinkled. Robin's tone wasn't insulting, but his statement still did not sit well with her. She drew Falchion. "Fine then. Show me where that overly abundant confidence flows from."

Robin's eyes brightened, and he suddenly lashed out with a blisteringly quick jab. Lucina, though surprised, managed to deflect it, then slipped forward, Falchion plunging ahead of her. Robin stepped backward, catching her sword on his own.

Lucina pressed an assault, growing more and more disappointed with each clash. She hadn't expected Robin to be a blowhard, but he was only barely managing to present a challenge. His form was sloppy and his movements predictable. Lucina was becoming concerned that she might harm him after all if this went on for too long.

Robin scratched his chin. "Hmm... Alright, that's a clear enough picture of your offense. Now let's see how you do on defense."

And at that moment, Lucina realized that Robin had been fighting one-handed the entire time.

His posture sharpened dramatically, and suddenly Lucina found all of her strikes subverted without any apparent effort from Robin. He casually flicked his sword past her guard, its tip coming alarmingly close enough to her nose that she was forced to backpedal. Robin continued with a chain of strikes, each just barely within the limits of what Lucina was able to intercept.

And then, all at once, Robin caught the unique opening in Falchion's blade and flicked his wrist, yanking the sword from Lucina's grasp and sending it twirling to embed itself in the dirt.

Lucina stared in disbelief at her discarded weapon as Robin lethargically brought his swordtip to her throat. It had never even been a contest; she understood that now. "And with that, you are dead," Robin said calmly. He suddenly grinned. "That was really good!" he exclaimed brightly, not a hint of condescension in his voice. "I'm used to you being a lot stronger than that, but that was a great showing for how little experience you have!"

Lucina looked at him in awe, still having trouble accepting that a man with such an unassuming appearance held so much power. "How did... How did you become so skilled?"

Robin scratched his neck. "The same way you will. Shitloads of practice, a willingness to put my life on the line in battle, and, hopefully, a good teacher."

"If I could truly become as strong as you..." Lucina murmured.

"Strong _er_ ," Robin corrected. "You were much better with a blade than I am. You'll just need a little help in getting to that point. Good thing I'm here, huh?"

Lucina's eyes widened. She suddenly darted over to Falchion, yanking it out of the ground and turning to face Robin. "Again, please!"

Robin leaned his sword on his shoulder. "This isn't going to be an easy road, you know. You'll lose track of how many times you've been beaten before you finally manage to best me. You're going to have to endure the sting of defeat over and over again."

"Fine by me!" Lucina shouted.

Robin grinned exuberantly. "Excellent!" he declared.

* * *

Chrom cleared his throat. Everyone in the barracks immediately stopped what they were doing and crisply saluted.

"Good afternoon, Shepherds. I'd like to introduce you all to a new member. This is Reflet. She's going to be our chief strategist." Chrom scratched his chin. "Hmm. Hey, where did Virion run off to?" he muttered. "I thought he'd shown interest in joining as well..."

Reflet smiled and waved. "Hello all!"

Each of the Shepherds waved back in greeting, save for Maribelle, who ran up to Lissa. "Darling, are you quite alright? I heard about that despicable affair down in Southtown! Are you unharmed?"

"I'm fine, Maribelle. Southtown wasn't that bad. Those Risen things were way more scary."

"Why Lissa, you should know better than to indulge in tall tales!" Maribelle scolded.

Reflet raised her hand. "I can assure you, the Risen are quite real."

Maribelle scowled at her. "Mind your manners around your social betters, dear. It's unbecoming to interrupt nobility when they're conversing."

Reflet stared at her in disbelief. She was about to say something in protest when she felt a tap on the shoulder. She turned to a green-armored knight. "Don't mind her. She has a sharp tongue, but she's a softy at heart. My name's Stahl," the man smiled. "And that guy over there is Kellam."

Reflet smiled. "Nice to meet you. But who are you talking ab- GAH!"

Kellam raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Wow! It only took her about a minute and a half to notice me! I think that might be a new record."

Stahl turned towards a red-haired mage. "Miriel?"

"Seventy-four seconds. While an impressive time, Cordelia still holds the record at forty-nine seconds."

A brunette woman laughed. "Naturally. I'm Sumia, by the way."

"Nice to meet you. And who are you?" Reflet asked a large blonde-haired man.

"What, never heard of me?" Vaike asked. "I'm-" He belched loudly, in a manner that made it sound like he was saying "The Vaike".

Reflet's jaw dropped. "Woah! That was amazing! How did you make it last that long? And that control of tone and pitch was incredible!"

Maribelle scowled. "Ugh! I expected such crass behavior from a lowborn such as yourself, Vaike, but I am most disappointed that you would encourage him, Miss Reflet! For shame!"

Reflet frowned. "What's your problem? It's just a belch. Everyone does it." To demonstrate, she began gulping air.

"What are you-?" Maribelle began to ask, but Reflet answered preemptively with a burp nearly equal to Vaike's.

"Eek! How uncouth!" Maribelle shrieked.

"Gahahaha! Teach likes you already!" Vaike guffawed, slapping Reflet on the back. "I'll take you on as my pupil!"

"And what classes would _you_ instruct her in? _How to Be a Baseborn Oaf 101_?!" Maribelle spat.

Reflet sighed. "Chrom, do I really have to deal with this person?"

Maribelle was now seething. "How _dare_ a commoner such as yourself refer to him as-"

"As _what_? Chrom? It's fine with him, so I'll call him Chrom all I want! Chrom, Chrom, Chrom!"

Chrom sighed. "Alright ladies, that's more than enough. Let's just calm down and-"

"Milord, what gutter did you find this wretch in?" Maribelle snapped.

"Alright, that tears it!" Reflet shouted. "You wanna go, little Miss Prissy?! Because we'll see what good that stupid parasol of yours does _when I rain hell down upon you!_ "

"Oh, I'll show you one of my "stupid" parasol's myriad uses when I shove it right up your-"

"Maribelle! Reflet! Please stop fighting!" Lissa whined as she struggled to push Maribelle away while Sumia tried to hold Reflet back. Meanwhile, Vaike and Stahl had engaged in a belching contest, which Miriel was studiously documenting. And Kellam was (presumably) still just standing there, doing nothing of particular import.

Chrom pinched the bridge of his nose. These were his star soldiers.

 _They make up for it on the battlefield. They make up for it on the battlefield. They make up for it on the battlefield,_ he silently chanted to himself.

* * *

Robin was feeling spry. He attributed it to the cold; for someone born in a desert nation, he enjoyed chilly climates more than one might expect. Beside him, Lucina was bundled up in a shawl Robin had purchased in Northtown. She didn't seem particularly perturbed by the temperature either, as if she were used to it. Robin hypothesized that this was because the sun had been blotted out in her world, causing climates to cool globally.

They had made good time. A journey that should have taken nearly two weeks had been completed in less than ten days, and neither of them seemed worse for the wear. They now had nearly two days to gain entrance to Regna Ferox and earn their slots as champions for Basilio. This was easier said than done; recent bandit attacks had caused the Regna Feroxians to crack down on border security. Robin placed his hands on his hips and scanned the massive stone wall that snaked across the horizon.

"The Longfort. A pinnacle of engineering that took half a century to complete. Regna Ferox's pride, a reportedly impenetrable and unassailable fortification." He turned towards Lucina. "So, how do we get in?"

She gave him a blank expression. "What? Why are you asking me? I thought _you_ had a plan."

"Huh? Last time you came here all by yourself, so I assumed you knew some secret entrance or something."

"How would I? I've never been to Regna Ferox before."

Robin raised an eyebrow. "Really? Not even to visit your aunt and uncle?"

Lucina gave him a strange look. "What do you mean?"

"Didn't Lissa go to live with Lon'qu in Regna Ferox?"

Lucina now looked a tad confused. "...Aunt Lissa was married to Uncle Vaike."

Robin just stared at her. "...Vaike? _Vaike_?! Lissa married _Vaike_?!"

Lucina frowned. "And I surmise she was married to Sir Lon'qu in your world?"

"Well yeah, but that least at made sense! Girl falls in love with her bodyguard, bodyguard falls in love with his charge, you know, that old story! ...Although I guess Lissa falling in love with her brother's rival is kind of understandable too," he muttered, hand on chin as he stared pensively at the snow. He looked up at Lucina. "Wait, who did Lon'qu marry then?"

"Lady Say'ri."

"Get out. Seriously? I didn't think she would go for that sort of thing..."

Lucina raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Robin rubbed the back of his head. "Well uh, I was kind of under the impression that Say'ri had something going on with, um... Tiki."

Lucina narrowed her eyes. "Are you suggesting that the Divine Oracle engaged in a lascivious affair with the empress of Chon'sin?"

"See, somehow it sounds less credible when you say it like that."

Lucina put her hand to her chin. "But wait. You know of Owain. Shouldn't he have not existed in your time if Aunt Lissa didn't marry Uncle Vaike?"

Robin frowned. "Hmm... Good question. That seems like the reasonable expectation. We're talking about the same Owain, right? Tall, shouts a lot, poses a lot more, always talks about his Sword Hand?"

Lucina smiled. "Yes, that's him."

Robin rubbed his head. "Now, from a probabilities standpoint, _that_ is weird. We'll have to talk about that later. But first, the more pressing issue of _how the hell do we get inside_?"

Lucina pursed her lips as she surveyed the Longfort. "Scaling the wall seems impossible. It's far too high, and handholds are lacking."

"Nah, I can get us up there with _Acrobat_. Problem is we'd just be spotted the instant I did that."

"Hmm. Perhaps there's an opening in the wall somewhere we can sneak through?"

"Not impossible, given its length, but gods know how long it would take us to find one."

Lucina frowned. "Perhaps we're overthinking this? What if we just ask for entry?"

"Prior experience suggests we'd only be branded as brigands and attacked. But it's not like the border patrol is particularly imposing..." The two crossed their arms, both deep in thought.

Robin scratched his head. "...Do you want to just beat up the guards until someone important shows up?"

She tilted hers. "...I suppose that might work."


	5. Shepherds II

Robin scratched his head. "Listen, um... Rinay? Relm? Hmm... Well shit, this is embarrassing. I know I've met you at least twice. What was your name again?"

The guard captain scowled. "I am Raimi, the Ironclad!" The dignity she tried to invoke with her title was somewhat undercut by the way she had been knocked on her back; her heavy armor made her resemble an upturned turtle. The fact that Robin was perched atop her wasn't helping matters.

Lucina grimaced a bit, her mask giving her a stern expression. "Robin, should you really be sitting on her like that?"

"What? She can't get up and she can't reach her weapons. I'm not in any danger."

"That's not quite what I meant..."

"Do you get off on humiliating me like this?!" Raimi spat. "Just kill me and be done with it!"

"Easy there, Bowl-cut," Robin said, waving his hand. "We're not killing anyone. Not you, not any of your men we just fought," he explained, gesturing to the unconscious guards strewn about. "We simply want an audience with Khan Basilio."

"And this is how you thought to get it?" she seethed.

Robin grinned. "Well, when in Regna Ferox..."

"I'd sooner die than let a cretin like you past this wall!" Raimi snarled.

"Alright, then," Robin said, examining his fingernails. "You can just go ahead and be the one to explain to Basilio how you _personally_ prevented two champions strong enough to defeat the border guard from representing him in the upcoming tournament."

Raimi went white as a sheet. "...P-Please help me to my feet. I will bring you to Khan Basilio immediately."

* * *

Reflet yawned loudly. Whether or not it was a lingering characteristic from the time prior to her amnesia, it was clear that mornings did not agree with her.

"You alright?" Chrom asked from beside her. In contrast to the tactician, the prince seemed bright and chipper, and he was clearly enjoying the good weather on their trek to Regna Ferox.

"I'm trying to decide which I hate more: being awake this early, or marching," Reflet grumbled.

"Why, the lower class is moaning due to a deficiency in discipline?" a familiar voice that grated on Reflet's ears questioned. "My, I am _ever_ so surprised."

Reflet glanced over her shoulder. "Ah, Maribelle. I was under the impression that you were heading back to whatever location had the misfortune of being your birthplace."

Maribelle ignored the quip, smiling smugly. "I _was_ going to return home, but Lord Chrom simply _insisted_ that I stay with the Shepherds a while longer."

Reflet narrowed her eyes at Chrom. "Is that so?"

Chrom waved his hands in disavowal. "It's not what you think. Really."

Reflet put her hands behind your head. "I'm not sure what you mean, because for the life of me I can't think of a single reason why you or anyone else would want _her_ around."

Maribelle's smile was sickeningly sweet. "I'll be certain to remember that and make myself scarce the next time you're bleeding out on the ground."

"Ooh, that veiled threat sounds like insubordination! Chrom, I outrank her, right? Can I court marshal her?"

Chrom narrowed his eyes. "What? No, that's-"

Maribelle sniffed. "I shudder to think of what would become of my family name were I to be successfully convicted of charges levied at me by some addled-brained Plegian whore."

"Oh, I see! The rest of that insult was predictable, but taking a potshot at my amnesia? Real classy for a supposed noble, you insufferable tart!"

Maribelle sneered. "Wretched sow!" she hissed.

"Ladies, please-" Chrom began to interject.

"Spoiled bint!" Reflet snapped.

'Vulgar tramp!"

"Pompous prat!"

Chrom reached his breaking point. "Gods, will you two give it a rest?!" he shouted loudly. "I would do _anything_ for you two to not be at each others' throats for more than one godsdamned minute!"

The prince blinked, surprised by sudden silence. He looked to Reflet, who was staring quietly ahead. "E-Even dealing with that?" she asked nervously, pointing to the distance. Her arm shook nearly imperceptibly.

Chrom squinted, then sighed. What was unmistakably a small horde of Risen was rapidly approaching them. "Me and my godsdamn mouth... Shepherds! Battle positions!" He turned back toward his tactician. "You're up, Reflet. Guide our swords."

Reflet gulped. "W-Well, first of all, yours is staying right next to me."

Chrom raised an eyebrow. "Hmm?"

Reflet was fidgeting now. "W-Well, with the way my body's tensing up and the difficulty I'm having breathing when I look at those monsters, I'm becoming concerned that I've developed a slight case of n-necrophobia. B-But I think you saving me from those Risen left an impression on me, so as long as you're close-by I think I'll be fine. L-Like you're a zombie security blanket o-or something."

Chrom frowned. "I don't mind protecting you, but you shouldn't push yourself. There's no shame in falling back and directing us from the rear."

Reflet grimaced and shook her head. "N-No. A good tactician always has their fingers on the pulse of the battle. I'm not going to let a little irrational fear keep me from doing my job. I'm going to be on the frontlines, at your side." She began shouting orders with surprising composure, prompting Frederick, Sully, and Stahl to form the vanguard while Maribelle and Lissa fell to the rear. Vaike, Virion, and Miriel took up central positions.

Chrom watched the Risen approach and laughed a bit nervously. "While I admire your resolve, I wouldn't call fear of those things "irrational"."

* * *

Robin placed his hands on his hips. "It's been a while since I've been in Arena Ferox. Somehow, it just doesn't feel the same without an audience calling for my head to roll."

Lucina tilted her head. "One would think that that would be an improvement."

Robin rested his chin in his hand. "Yes, one _would_ think that, wouldn't they?" he asked forlornly.

Doors slammed open, and Basilio strode into the room, Lon'qu and Raimi trailing behind him. He stopped a foot away from Robin and Lucina.

He eyed the pair inspectively. "Hmm, so you're the sprogs who beat Raimi, huh? Gotta admit, I was expecting you two to be a bit more imposing."

Robin smiled. "Looks are deceiving, Khan Basilio."

Basilio cocked his eyebrow. "Oh? Have we met, squirt?"

"Yes, but I'm not someone you would remember. My name is Robin, and this is Marth," he said, gesturing to Lucina. Robin grinned impudently. "And we're your new champions."

"Oho, confident, aren't we? Don't get ahead of yourselves. I take it you've never met Lon'qu then, or you wouldn't be nearly this cocky."

Robin raised a finger. "As a matter of fact, I have," he smiled. "No need for introductions, save for how _he's_ about to be introduced to the floor."

Lon'qu narrowed his eyes. "You wish to fight me, stranger?"

Robin waved his hand. "Oh no, _I_ won't be fighting you; not unless I have to. _He_ will," he said, jerking his thumb towards a visibly alarmed Lucina.

"Leaving your dirty work to someone else, eh boy?" Basilio asked. He slapped his hand on Robin's shoulder. "It's not like I can say I'm doing any different, though, hahaha! Alright, Lon'qu you're fighting Marth. He's all yours!"

Lon'qu narrowed his eyes. "..."He"?"

Basilio glanced at his champion. "Problem, Lon'qu?"

Lon'qu considered a moment. "...No."

"Alright then, get to it! Show these outsiders what Feroxi strength is all about!"

The two parties began to head towards opposite ends of the arena. "Robin, what are you thinking?!" Lucina hissed quietly. "You should fight him! I haven't even been able to scratch you in our sparring matches!"

Robin waved his hand. "Relax, you've got this. Worst case scenario I just smack him around a bit myself if you lose. Which you won't."

Lucina looked uneasy. "Sir Lon'qu is the greatest swordsman on earth, except perhaps for my father! They called him "Lethal Emperor" across the long sea!"

"Huh, Lon'qu became emperor of Chon'sin? That's funny; in my world you said that Lon'qu became West Khan after Basilio died. Guess he's just destined for greatness no matter what."

"Please don't be so flippant! My father's defeat at the hands of Sir Lon'qu and failure to procure reinforcements are what led to the downward spiral of the Plegian war!" A tone of desperation was entering Lucina's voice. "I'm telling you, we absolutely must defeat him, and you're the only one who can do it!"

Robin now appeared irritated. "And I'm telling _you_ that you _can_ beat him! You've done it before! Lucina, you're going to have to drop the notion that the Shepherds are all these untouchable heroes. Right now, you're probably stronger than _any_ of them, including your father!'

The way Lucina pulled her head back indicated to Robin that she was blinking in confusion behind her mask. "But my father is-"

"A noble who's never gone up against anything more threatening than amateur bandits and a handful of Risen. A man barely out of boyhood who's had a silver spoon in his mouth since he was born. A person who hasn't been fighting for survival almost his entire life like you have!"

She hesitated. "But I..."

Robin put his hands on her shoulders. "Look, trust me, I know just as well as you do how strong every one of the Shepherds are going to be someday. Key phrase being _going to be_. But right now they're all greenhorns. They've yet to live the lives that forge them into the heroes you idolized. Maybe Lon'qu will eventually become the greatest master of the blade to ever walk the earth, but right now he's just some glory-seeking punk. He doesn't hold a candle to you."

Lucina looked to where Lon'qu was patiently waiting. She bit the inside of her cheek. "...You're certain I can win?"

"I'm certain that if I wasn't here you wouldn't even be considering that question. You'd already be in the middle of fighting him."

She grimaced, then nodded.

Robin grinned and patted her on the shoulder. "Atta girl! Ok, I'll be watching from the stands. Kick his ass!"

* * *

Virion let loose another arrow, putting on a facade of satisfaction as it hit its mark. In truth, he was fumbling internally. He had made the long voyage to this continent to seek allies that would aid him in repelling Walhart from Rosanne, but his hopes were gradually beginning to dwindle. Ylisse was too weak, wearied by years of war. Regna Ferox possessed power in plenty, but was leery of outsiders; only a fool would expect them to cross an ocean to help strangers. Plegia held power as well, but those holding the reigns left much to be desired—Walhart was at least tempered by purpose; Gangrel was simply malice unbound. And that didn't speak anything about the rumors of how deeply the Grimleal were entrenched in the state's politics.

But Virion did not despair yet. His network of information whispered of war, and that was perhaps the best scenario that Virion could reasonably expect. If Ylisse managed to convince Regna Ferox to forge an alliance with them, then that would likely carry over into a war with Plegia, and even beyond that should they emerge victorious. And Walhart would not be sitting on his hands idly the whole time; inevitably, his conquest over Valm would be complete, and he would reach out his arms to add a new continent to his domain. The Ylisseans and the Feroxians would have no choice but to fight then, and therein lay Virion's hope—alone, either country could fall, but together, they presented a chance to defeat the Conqueror.

Virion watched calmly as the prince, Chrom, decapitated a Risen, his tactician Reflet incinerating another with a fire tome she had been issued. Already, she seemed to be overcoming the timidity that had plagued her at the beginning of the battle, though she was sticking to her commanding officer as closely as she could. Around them, the Shepherds were working in unison to defeat the undead monsters. Indeed, Virion could see that this simple peacekeeping group would someday become a force to be reckoned with. The prince was strong and bold, and his tactician clearly a budding genius. The two fought well as a pair, covering each other splendidly. Their underlings were above average as well, especially the intimidating Knight Commander. For now, their group was worth little more than a standard mercenary troupe, but they nonetheless had the makings of greatness. Though he loathed being unable to do anything to directly further his cause while his countrymen suffered, ingratiating himself to the Shepherds was the only clear path he saw forward. For the moment, all he could do was make friends and continue to hone his skills for the day he put an arrow between the Conqueror's unseeing eyes.

The last of the Risen was dispatched without much fuss. Virion strolled up to a somewhat shaken Reflet, who was crouched over with her hands on her knees and breathing heavily. Chrom stood protectively over her, patting her back. "You did well, Reflet," the prince said with a smile.

"Indeed," Virion agreed. "Though I wonder, my dear... While your command was impeccable, did you not consider a flanking maneuver over by the bridge?" he questioned.

Reflet looked up at him, then took a deep breath and straightened her back. She pondered a moment while rubbing her chin. "I did, but that would have left us exposed to an attack from over _there,_ " she explained, pointing to a copse of trees.

Virion nodded. "But of course. However, if our composition were to be changed like _so_..." he noted, illustrating by taking a long stick and drawing diagrams in the dirt.

"Ah, I see! And if we moved west toward the river, then we could have..."

The next two minutes passed in a babble of tactical jargon that flew right over Chrom's head. It would have gone on longer, but at that point Chrom noticed a new development that he felt deserved their attention. He grabbed Reflet by the shoulder and pointed, her and Virion's gazes following his finger's trail. Their jaws involuntarily dropped. A hulking, eight-foot tall Risen wearing a plated mask stood across the nearby bridge, a massive axe clutched tightly in its grip.

"Oh dear," Virion murmured, already falling back to a better position.

Reflet felt her legs lock up beneath her. "O-Oh g-gods," she whispered, her lungs feeling short of air.

"What the living hell is that thing?!" Chrom shouted, echoing the thoughts of each of the other Shepherds.

The Risen's jaw opened with the mechanical steady slowness of a drawbridge, purple smoke billowing from its maw. The creature bellowed deafeningly, then barreled towards Reflet and Chrom at breakneck speed.

* * *

Robin rested his head on his fist and sighed quietly to himself from his seat in the arena's spectator stands. _Were we all really once this weak?_

He considered what he was working with. As he had assured her, Lucina was a clear cut above any of the Shepherds native to this timeline, including Lon'qu. And as he had suspected previously, she would most likely have to actively hold back against Chrom in the arena. She was still a mere shade compared to the brilliance she would achieve in three years' time, but there was no question that she was an unparalleled prodigy.

However, in spite of Lucina's superior skill, speed, and strength, Lon'qu still held the upper hand in their duel. He swatted Falchion aside with his Killing Edge, then pivoted on his foot and brutally drove the ball of his foot into Lucina's gut. She gagged, staggering backwards, but composed herself and deflected Lon'qu's successive series of probing jabs. There seemed a moment when Lucina might have been about to make an attempt on Lon'qu's exposed side, but she instead elected to retreat a bit and take a more solid stance, preparing for another assault from the myrmidon. Lon'qu sized her up a moment, then resumed his attack, Killing Edge a whir.

Robin frowned as he watched Lon'qu continue to push Lucina back, the combatants dancing in a circle around the arena. _Technique, power, reflexes, instinct... She's not lacking in any of these, so why is she struggling?_

Once more, Lucina disrupted Lon'qu's flow, and this time her opening was clear enough that no one spectating the fight missed it. However, she hesitated, as if expecting a trap where there was none. The moment passed, allowing Lon'qu to regain his balance and renew his assault.

Robin groaned. _I get it. She still can't shake the idea of Lon'qu being the greatest swordsman in the world. She's fighting like she's expecting to lose, even though she's clearly stronger._ He steepled his hands. _Well, I suppose it would be unfair to expect her to be able to overcome that mental block on such short notice. Doesn't make this any less frustrating, though..._

Clangs echoed as sword clashed against sword; the two combatants were mostly holding their respective ground now, with the exception of Lucina occasionally taking a step backwards. Still evidently the aggressor, Lon'qu was raining blows down on her. While she was able to keep up, she seemed unable to reciprocate. A string of impeccably-placed attacks from Lon'qu ended with the duelists' blades locked. Lon'qu's Killing Edge ground against Falchion, sparks flying. Lucina grit her teeth as her sword was angled away from her, and she was forced to make an awkward step to keep from falling over.

Robin grimaced. _I don't understand. She doesn't have a chance if she keeps fighting like this. How did she win in-?"_

Seeing an opportunity, Lon'qu shot out his free hand to push Lucina back, aiming to knock her completely off balance.

His hand sunk ever so slightly into her chest.

Robin narrowed his eyes. _Oh._

Lon'qu's eyes bulged, and he leaped backwards, scrambling away from Lucina. Both had gone incredibly red-faced. "Y-You...! Y-You're a...-!" he spluttered.

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, for Lucina screamed and charged him, swinging with a fierce downward strike. Lon'qu managed to collect himself enough to block the attack, but his composure was shaken. There was a rapid exchange of blows, and when their swords locked again his sunk a bit, giving Lucina an opening to headbutt him. A loud, wince-inducing cracking sound echoed throughout the arena. Lon'qu teetered a moment, then collapsed, unconscious.

Robin tilted his head. _Well, at least she stopped fighting scared... Also, why am I not laughing right now? I really, really should be laughing right now._

* * *

Lon'qu was being carted away on a stretcher as Robin made it to the floor of the arena. Lucina walked slowly towards him. Her shoulders were slumped, and she stared dejectedly at the ground. Her posture did not at all reflect the decisive victory she had just claimed. "...Please do not mock me," she asked defeatedly.

"I won't, I won't," Robin promised quickly, struggling to keep himself from laughing. _This is just too adorable._ He smiled and clapped her on the shoulder. "You did well. Really! I told you you could do it!" he grinned.

Basilio strolled up to them, clearly none too disgruntled about the incapacitation of his best champion. "Hahahaha! Well I'll be damned! It looked like Lon'qu was winning and then all of a sudden you knock him flat on his ass! I like your style, kid!"

Lucina hesitated, then bowed. "Thank you, Khan Basilio."

Basilio scanned Robin, sizing up. "I've seen what Marth here can do, but what about you?"

"Robin is immeasurably stronger than I," Lucina immediately stated. "At present, I have no chance at besting him."

Basilio raised his eyebrow. "That so?"

Robin shrugged, then grinned. "If you need convincing, you could fight me yourself."

The Khan laughed. "Ballsy, ain'tcha? But nah, you're no good to me dead. I'll take Marth's word for it." He scratched his head. "So, let's talk business. I'm not inclined to believe you'd champion for me out of the generosity of your hearts. What's your price?"

"Word has it the Ylisseans are looking for an alliance with Regna Ferox. Something about needing protection from the undead roaming their countrysides."

"Ah that. Sounds like a load of bullshit to me," Basilio snorted.

Robin shrugged. "Who knows? But anyway, point is, we win the tournament, then you give the Ylisseans their alliance. We ask for nothing else."

Basilio narrowed his eye. "What's in that for you?"

Robin glanced at him. "I don't think that's any of your concern. And besides, you seem short of options now; it doesn't look like Lon'qu's going to be getting up anytime soon."

Basilio scowled. "Hmph. Even if he is recovered in time, he'll probably be brooding and refuse to participate. For someone so quiet he's a godsdamn primadona." He sighed. "Alright, alright, you've got my balls in a vice. If you win, I give Ylisse however many troops they want. Deal?" he asked, sticking out his hand.

Robin grinned and clasped hands with the Khan. "Deal."

* * *

"Not good, not good!" Chrom muttered as the Risen Chief charged towards him.

Reflet was rigid. As she stared at the Risen, a memory seemed to be forcing its way briefly to the surface: a woman whose eyes glowed an even brighter crimson than the Risen's did. Then it sunk back into the depths, leaving the much more visceral vision of a monster that was about to kill her.

Chrom readied to roll out of the way, but then realized that Reflet was rooted to the spot, petrified with fear. "Shit!" Chrom cursed to himself, tackling Reflet and dragging her out of the monster's path. Chrom was clipped by the Risen's shoulder, sending him and Reflet tumbling for a few moments. He pushed himself up on his knees, hacking and gagging. The monster simply brushing against him had driven the wind out of him; he didn't want to dwell on what would happen if he took a charge like that head-on.

The Risen Chief skidded to a halt, gouging deep furrows in the dirt with its feet. Its head swiveled unnaturally, and it would have attacked Chrom and Reflet again had it not suddenly found a silver lance embedded in its chest.

"Crawl back into whatever hell birthed you!" Frederick snarled.

The Risen regarded him a moment, then swatted at him with its axe like a man would a fly. Frederick jerked on his lance, but it refused to budge. Unable to defend or dodge, he prepared himself for the loss of an arm or worse, but the Risen's attack was diverted by a sudden blast of fire to its chest, knocking it off-kilter. Frederick seized his chance and leaned forward, the axe whistling over his head.

"My thanks, Miriel!" Frederick called.

"An analysis of the situation suggests that displays of gratitude may be premature," she replied gravely.

Sully charged the creature, knocking it further backwards by driving her lance into its left shoulder. Stahl and Vaike followed up by hacking at the monster's side and leg respectively while Virion pelted it with arrows from a distance. The Risen Chief teetered, but regained its footing. Realizing their momentum was lost, Vaike and the cavaliers retreated.

The monster swept its gaze over the Shepherds for a moment, Frederick's lance still buried to its shaft in its chest. In spite of the attacks it had just taken, the Risen hardly seemed injured.

The Risen Chief hissed, then crouched in the same stance it had previously taken before its charge, this time aimed at Frederick. The Knight Commander silently cursed to himself, and hastily pulled on the reigns of his mount. He readied to ride, but was not optimistic about his chances of evasion.

"Dammit!" Chrom muttered, realizing that Frederick was more or less a sitting duck without his weapon. "Stay down!" he commanded Reflet, who still seemed a shivering wreck. He charged at the Risen, leaping onto its back and driving Falchion into its shoulder. The monster howled, shaking back and forth in an attempt to dislodge the prince. Chrom grunted, struggling to hold on, but soon lost his grip on Falchion and was knocked off. He scrambled to his feet, but the Risen Chief had already raised its axe for the deathblow.

The image of Chrom in mortal danger pierced through Reflet's haze. "Chrom!" she shouted, followed shortly after by her namesake spell as she flipped open her personal tome. A barrier of light formed around the surprised prince, and the Risen's axe glanced off it. The Risen hissed and swiped with a taloned hand, just in time for the spell's counterattack function to activate. Bursts of light shot out from the barrier, disintegrating the monster's left arm. The Risen Chief shrieked and stepped backwards, staring ponderously at the smoking stump. Chrom snatched the opportunity and dashed away from the Risen, heading towards Reflet.

Reflet's eyes went wide. Not only had her spell done the most damage to the creature so far, but Miriel's fire spell also seemed to have injured it more than the multiple weapon strikes it had shrugged off. _It's weak to magic!_ she realized. She took a deep breath and steadied herself before rising to her feet. _Ok, Reflet, you can do this. No big deal. It's just an undead behemoth that probably wants to eat you. Nothing worth being scared of!_

"Thanks for the save," Chrom gasped as he reached her. "Are you alright?"

Reflet swallowed dryly and nodded. "I think I know how to beat this thing. Miriel!" she called. "Hit it again! Everyone else, focus on protecting her!"

"How distressing," Miriel murmured as she shot off a more focused fire spell. "We have discerned a vulnerability, yet lack the sufficient means exploitation would necessitate."

The Risen Chief growled and attempted to dodge, the spell striking its shoulder. It bellowed, and was making to charge again when Reflet's own fire spell struck its side. The Risen screamed, then changed its trajectory to aim towards Reflet.

Just as she had anticipated.

"Shitshitshitshit!" Reflet cried out, hands trembling as she clutched her reflection tome.

Just because she had anticipated this didn't mean she liked it one bit.

The monster bolted towards them as expected, but then suddenly leaped into the sky, twirling as it made to bring its axe down on the tactician.

Reflet flinched and cast her spell. If everything went smoothly, victory was a moment away. But just as the barrier's outline faintly began to appear, Chrom realized that the Risen's eyes were gleaming far too brightly, and its axe seemed to shine unnaturally. Instinct galled him, and he grabbed Reflet, dragging her through the membrane of the still-forming barrier, like pushing through a soap bubble.

"Chrom?!" Reflet shouted. "Wh-What are you doing?! We're about to-"

She was cut off by a terrible crashing sound. The Risen Chief's axe drove through the barrier spell, shattering it like glass. Beads of light formed and hung in the air, the burst with force that sent Chrom and Reflet flying. The Risen screamed in pain, dropping its axe to clutch at where its chest had been seared by the light. It ripped out Frederick's lance and flung it to the ground.

Chrom groaned, staggering to his feet. Reflet stared in disbelief. "Wh-Wha-..? It broke through?! But how?!"

Chrom had recognized what had happened. "W-Was that _Luna_ just now?!" he gasped. "Unbelievable... What the hell is that thing? Even Frederick can't do that!"

Reflet put her hand over her mouth, seeing that Chrom was injured. "Chrom, you're bleeding!"

"I'm fine..." Chrom wheezed, blood trickling down his forehead and shoulder. "We were far enough away that I didn't take the full brunt of the backlash."

Reflet became horrified, realizing that Chrom must have shielded her from her own magic. "Chrom, we have to get away! You can't fight like this!"

Chrom pursed his lips. "You're right. I need to get Falchion back," he said, looking to the blade still buried halfway into the monster's shoulder.

"What?! No! That's not what I meant at all!"

The Risen Chief was currently distracted by the rest of the Shepherds, with the cavaliers trying to draw its focus while Miriel pelted it with fire spells. At some point the soldiers had managed to force the creature to discard its weapon. Chrom decided that a better opening wasn't going to present itself anytime soon, so he broke off in a dash towards the monster, ignoring Reflet's protests. He jumped as hard as he could, reaching desperately for Falchion's hilt, gleaming in the sunlight. He barely managed to latch on with one hand, then acrobatically pulled himself up and pushed his feet against the Risen's back with all of his might.

Now aware of its passenger, the Risen hissed, and reached up with its remaining hand to remove Chrom. However, at that moment an arrow connected with the creature's eye, causing it to thrash in pain. Chrom grunted and managed to dislodge Falchion before being knocked off, landing with a heavy thud. He immediately rolled away, narrowly avoiding being trampled underfoot.

Breathing a sigh of relief when Chrom managed to get out of the Risen's immediate range, Reflet honed in on something: the arrow still lodged in the behemoth's eye.

"Chrom!" she shouted. "You need to stab it in the eye!"

"Easier said than done!" he shouted back. "I can't get a good shot in at that height, and it would just swat me out of the air if I jumped at it anyway!"

"That's fine, that's fine, I can get around that..." she whispered. She spotted something gleaming in the grass and an idea struck her. "Ah! Vaike!" she called. "Go and get Frederick's lance back to him!"

"On it, Star Pupil!" Vaike saluted before charging towards the lance. Chrom was now playing a dangerous cat-and-mouse game with the Risen Chief, barely staying out of range of its talon swipes while the Shepherds constantly tried to distract it.

Vaike chuckled with success as he snatched up the lance, then raised it high. "Heads up, Freddyboy!" he shouted before lobbing it at its owner.

Frederick scowled, but ignored the nickname and masterfully snatched his weapon out of the air, twirling it back into an attacking position.

"Great!" Reflet called. "Frederick, hit its arm!"

"As you command, milady!" he replied, galloping towards the Risen Chief. The monster noticed him just in time for his lance to be driven into its upper arm, Frederick using his forward momentum to drag the limb with him as if he were in a jousting tournament.

"Chrom!" Reflet shouted. "Stepping stone!"

"Wha-?!" Chrom asked in confusion, but then understood a moment later when a small platform-like barrier appeared at waist-height. He grinned, then jumped onto the barrier. The Risen Chief glared at him with its remaining eye, and made an attempt to drag its arm off Frederick's lance. Chrom leaped into the air, screaming, then rammed Falchion through the monster's skull. He hung there for a second, then pushed off and jumped away, leaving his sword buried to its hilt in the Risen's eye socket. It teetered, then collapsed on top of the barrier, which shattered and burst in a small stream of light. The Risen shook in its death throes before gradually crumbling away into plumes of ash and smoke, leaving Falchion to hang suspended in midair for a moment before clattering to the ground.

Chrom fell to a sitting position, exhausted. "W-We did it!" he gasped.

"Milord! Are you quite alright?!" Maribelle cried with concern as she ran up to the prince. "Goodness me, what dreadful wounds!" she tutted as she knelt beside him, already pulling her healing stave out. She immediately set to work healing Chrom's injuries.

Chrom sighed in relief as his pain began to ebb away. "Thank, you Maribelle."

Reflet staggered over to them, legs shaking now that the adrenaline was wearing off. She opened her mouth to say something, then ran past them and vomited onto the grass. Maribelle crinkled her nose in disgust.

Reflet sank to her haunches. "Y-You've got something you want to say?" she asked defensively, wiping her mouth off.

"Only commendation of an adequate job," she replied. "But do try not to so grievously injure our commanding officer next time. Such an oversight is not something to be ignored."

Reflet wished to retort, but she bit her lip, still feeling guilty that Chrom had taken the backlash for her. "...You're right," she said quietly.

Maribelle blinked. "Eh?"

"I was careless. I failed to account for the possibility of that Risen possessing the strength to break through my barrier. Chrom got hurt because I wasn't thorough enough."

Maribelle frowned, then sighed. "Well, it was a simple mistake. Perfection is something the commoners have to scrape and crawl for, after all."

Reflet narrowed her eyes. "I know you're trying to make me feel better, but that still sounded like an insult."

"Don't worry about it, Reflet" Chrom laughed. "We'd all be in much worse shape right now if not for you. ...Oh, done already? That was quite fast, Maribelle."

Maribelle smiled. "Thank you for your praise, Milord."

Chrom stood up and stretched. "How's everyone? Anyone else injured?"

"A few cuts and bruises, but Lissa and I can handle those while we travel," she replied.

"Great. Well, let's get going then. The sooner we reach Regna Ferox, the better."

The Shepherds began to march past Reflet, one by one, each of them giving her some form of praise. She remained sitting where she was until Frederick, bringing up the rear, stopped next to her. "Miss Reflet? Is something amiss?" he questioned.

"Um, Fr-Frederick?" she asked. "Can I ride with you? The shock of that battle's caught up to me. I don't really think I can stand."


	6. Warrior Realm

Reflet found herself lost in contemplation as the Shepherds continued their long march to Regna Ferox. (Frederick was unfortunately not the kind to coddle, and had instructed her to resume walking once she had recollected her nerves.) She was only jolted out of her thoughts when the source of her consternation cleared his throat.

"You feeling any better, Reflet?" Chrom asked. "You look less pale now, at least."

She blinked. "Oh, I'm fine. I didn't get hurt at all during that fight." Reflet flushed, rubbing her forearm. "Thanks to you, that is... I'm really sorry about that."

Chrom shrugged. "I've had worse. Don't worry about it."

Reflet looked down at the ground; somehow, Chrom's complete dismissal of how she had accidentally wounded him only served to compound her guilt.

Sensing Reflet's distress, Chrom sought to change the subject. "I wonder, where did that titanic Risen come from? I thought that the Risen were made from human corpses, but that thing was way too big to have ever been a person."

Reflet glanced back up. "Who knows? We barely know anything about the Risen as is. What bothers _me_ is how something that huge managed to get the drop on us." She put her hand to her chin. "I could've sworn you sent a scout ahead. So why didn't we receive any forewarning?"

Chrom grimaced. "I've been wondering that myself, actually..."

She looked up to him. "Do you think something happened to that woman? Sumia?"

Chrom pursed his lips. "I hope not. She was all by herself. If she was caught off-guard..."

"Fear not, milord," Frederick reassured. "Miss Sumia has been well-trained as a Shepherd, and her ability to bond with her mount is uncanny. She can certainly fend for herself. I have no doubt we'll soon find her flying towards us."

"Um, Frederick?" Reflet interjected. "That's a nice sentiment and all, but isn't that a pegasus down the road? Sans Sumia?"

Frederick squinted, then grimaced. "Yes, it would appear so..." Once they got closer to the animal, worry began to tug at his face. "This is certainly Miss Sumia's mount..."

Chrom attempted to get closer to the animal, but a narrowly-avoided bite caused the prince to stumble back, cursing under his breath.

"Well, it doesn't seem like the Risen hurt it..." Chrom muttered.

Reflet put her hand to her chin. "It is limping, though."

Frederick clasped his arms behind his back. "Perhaps-"

He was interrupted by a loud crash as a brown-haired woman tumbled through nearby bushes. She fell to the ground, her waterskin spilling its contents into the dirt.

"Oh no!" Sumia moaned. "Ugh, and I just refilled that, too!"

Chrom raised an eyebrow. "Sumia?"

She immediately perked up and scrambled to her feet. "Captain! Oh, thank goodness! After seeing those Risen things I thought you might have-"

Her sentence was cut off abruptly as she stumbled and slammed face-first into the ground, causing Reflet to wince. The tactician expected the others to have some sort of reaction, but they all remained business-as-usual, as if this was such a frequent occurrence as to be rendered mundane.

"Um, we're fine, Sumia," Reflet reassured. "I mean, we _did_ run into the Risen, but we sorted it out."

Sumia shakily got to her feet, brushing dust off herself. "I'm so sorry," she apologized. "I was going to report back and warn you, Captain, but Catria here got spooked and twisted her ankle," she explained, walking up to her irate pegasus and placating it by stroking its face.

Chrom folded his arms. "And that stopped her from flying? Her wings seem fine to me."

Reflet spoke up. "Actually, Chrom, pegasi fly by channeling magic into their hooves and kicking the air. Their wings are mostly for gliding."

Sumia blinked in surprise. "Why yes! But how did you know that?"

Reflet shrugged, clearly surprised herself.

Chrom scratched his head. "That right? ...Well, at any rate, it's good that you're unharmed, Sumia. I was beginning to get worried that you had had a more serious run-in with those Risen than we did."

"Y-You were worried about me?" Sumia stammered, a blush coming to her cheeks. She immediately clasped her hands over her mouth, but the slip didn't go unnoticed by Reflet, and for some reason, she was annoyed by it.

Sumia immediately tried to write off the subject. "Y-You didn't need to be concerned about me, Captain, really! My flower fortunes didn't mention anything about death today, haha!"

Chrom smiled. "Hmph. That so?" He sighed. "Well, unfortunately, they must not have mentioned Regna Ferox either, because your pegasus is in no condition to travel that far."

Frederick nodded. "Indeed. Unfortunately, we have little choice but to have you return to Ylisstol so that you may properly tend to your mount."

Sumia gasped. "What? But I...!"

"Now, now, milord!" Maribelle interjected. "No need to leave the poor girl behind! My magic is not limited to treating humans; I'm well-versed in the art of equestrian healing as well!" she exclaimed before dismounting her own horse.

"Really?!" Sumia asked, eyes wide. "You can heal Catria? That's wonderful!"

Maribelle knelt down. "The joint is a bit swollen, but I'll have her right as rain in no time."

Chrom looked to his attendant. "Frederick? We haven't really taken a break since that fight."

Reflet perked up at the suggestion of a reprieve from marching, looking to the Knight Commander expectantly.

Frederick pursed his lips. "...I suppose our pace has been adequate, all things considered. We can afford a short respite. But after Miss Sumia's pegasus is accounted for, we will march on until nightfall."

Reflet groaned.

* * *

Lucina tightened her cloak, breath frosting as she stared up into the night sky. She had quickly become restless in the room Basilio had assigned her, prompting her to make her way to the palace's roof. Her head was clouded by unbearable anticipation of crossing blades with her father, as well as with the weight of the world she would struggle to save. The rare occasions when the stars had peaked through the perpetual gloom of her world had been spectacles she had savored; the bright lights twinkling in the darkness calmed her unlike anything else. It had been an unexpected delight to find that the stars were visible most every night in this world, and in staggering abundance she had never even imagined. She leaned back against the ledge, staring up into the night sky. Slowly, she felt her burdens slip away, leaving an unfettered awe at the wondrous scene.

Because of this, she was startled when the door that led back downstairs opened. Robin prodded it open with his knee, balancing two trays of food on his hands. His face lit up when he spotted her.

"Ah, there you are, Lucina!" he called. "I brought dinner. Thought I would find you up here, after your room turned out to be empty."

Lucina seemed surprised. "You expected to find me in such a place?"

"You-" He paused, thinking as he looked Lucina over. "...Hmm, no, what I really should be saying is, the other Lucina—used to stargaze all the time," he explained as he set the trays down.

Lucina pursed her lips, contemplative. She reached to take a loaf of bread, then hesitated and set it back down. "...You corrected yourself just now. Why is that?"

Robin shrugged, peeling an apple with a small knife. "You're not her, just like I'm not Reflet. You're your own person, and she was hers."

"But we're both versions of the same person, aren't we?" she asked.

Robin frowned. "I suppose so. But that doesn't mean you can't be different people. Even if you both started from the _exactly_ same point—and you probably didn't because my world was different from yours to begin with—you'd both wind up on different paths. Even if you two really used to be the same, by this point you most certainly aren't." He chuckled, then looked up at the night sky, his expression darkening slightly. "Then again, I'm probably more vehement than most about different versions of someone being different people in their own right."

Lucina looked at him appraisingly; his last sentence had carried a surprising amount of weight that Lucina couldn't place the origin of. She decided not to probe into it though; Robin hadn't discussed his past at much length beyond their initial encounter. He had made attempts during the nights they had settled down around a campfire, but it had quickly become apparent that the pain was too fresh, the wounds still raw and unhealed. Lucina did not press him on the issue; it seemed that they would be working together for quite a long while, giving Robin plenty of time to open up at his own pace. And so they had passed their journey practicing swordplay and discussing his plan for the tournament, alongside much more mundane things. Robin was astoundingly well-read when it came to obtuse facts about the flora and fauna of a world unravaged by Grima, and seemed to find enjoyment in sharing his knowledge with her.

Bringing her focus back to the conversation at hand, Lucina began to mull over what Robin had just said. "...So is the Lucina yet to be born in this time a separate existence from me as well?" she wondered.

Robin nodded, popping an apple slice into his mouth. "Yep. Time travel isn't linear. It's more like using an Outrealm Gate. Even if something terrible happened and that girl was never born, you wouldn't wink out of existence or anything."

Lucina felt a pit growing in her stomach. "If that's true... Then what of my world? What of my parents?" she asked quietly.

Robin stopped mid-chew, then swallowed and set the apple back down on his tray. "...Stopping Grima in this time won't undo what was done." He grimaced, guilt clawing at him; he hadn't meant for the conversation to take this turn, but there would be no backing out of it now. "What's gone is gone," he said somberly, staring at the back of his right hand. "I'm sorry."

Lucina's blood felt like ice in her veins. "You... You must be mistaken!"

Robin looked up into the sky. "Would that I were. But after I met the other Lucina, something struck me as off. When I compared what she told me of herself and what I could glean from observation, then compared that data with observations of the infant Lucina... There were simply too many incongruities, the most egregious being differing dates of birth. It was obvious to me then that the two of them were not intrinsically linked by causality; had that been the case, any change to the baby should have been reflected in the adult." He looked back at her. "From there, it's not a leap to assume that time is immutable. You can move through it, but time itself will always flow onward." He swept his hand out, gesturing to the night. "The existence of this world is but proof of it. I traveled back through time, but the destination I found was one I should not have been able to reach; it was one where I had never even existed in the first place. There are probably countless worlds out there. We both just happened to end up in this one."

Lucina was reeling. She struggled to think of a counterpoint, but the looming terror Robin's words inspired was crashing in down around her, stifling thought. She clutched herself tightly, breath becoming unsteady. "T-Then is all this a fool's errand?!" she shouted. "Was my mission futile from the start?!"

"No!" Robin said emphatically, surprising her with the firmness of his tone. "You can't bring your birth parents back." He hesitated, his expression pained. "...Nor I my friends. ...But that's not an excuse to just roll over and let Grima have his way!"

Lucina sat back, staring numbly ahead of her. She had been nurturing a still-blossoming hope, a prayer that things could be made to be the way they used to be before her life was ripped out from under her. She had been prepared to give up her very existence for this to happen. And now, she was being told that the best she could do was merely preventing a similar world meeting the same fate as her own's. It was a burden too cruel for her to bear. She struggled to blink back tears, but the flood refused to be stemmed.

Robin became alarmed upon realizing that Lucina was crying now, her arms wrapped around her knees. He put his hand on her shoulder, then hesitated before placing an arm around her. She didn't return the embrace, but did lean into him, sobbing loudly.

"...I'm sorry," Robin murmured. "Things should never have happened the way they did. But I promise you, this time, it's going to be different."

They sat there for some time, Lucina's muffled sobs the only sound emanating from the roof. After a length, Robin spoke again. "For what it's worth... He's neither the man you knew nor the one I knew, but this version of Chrom is just as much your father as the one who gave his life fighting for your future."

Lucina stiffened, then raised her head out of her arms. She looked at Robin questioningly, but couldn't seem to find her words.

Robin hesitated, knowing that properly conveying what he had to say next was vital. "...I haven't known this version of him that long, but I can tell that he's a good man. A great man. And I know that when the time finally comes, and you're at last able to reveal who you are to him... He'll accept you with open arms, and love you just as much as any of the other Chroms did. Because you're his daughter."

Robin couldn't discern what Lucina's expression meant, but at the very least she seemed to have stopped crying. She was silent a few moments, then sniffed loudly and sat back. Robin allowed his arm to slip back to his side, trying to be mindful of boundaries. Lucina wiped her eyes as she looked up at the stars once more.

"Feel any better?" Robin asked gently.

"...I don't think I've cried like that since Aunt Lissa died," she admitted quietly.

Robin pursed his lips, glancing at Lucina. "I'm sorry that the conversation took that turn. I didn't intend..." He trailed off, unsure how to express his feeling of guilt.

She shook her head. "It's alright. Well, not alright as a whole, but... I needed to realize it eventually. I think that I knew, somewhere deep down, that I had simply been running away from my pain. That I was only pretending that I would someday be able to erase it."

Robin's eyes softened, and he followed Lucina's gaze back up to the stars. To him, they seemed to mocking the two of them—beacons for a celestial realm surely devoid of karmic justice, for no righteous god would have ordained the ordeals of this poor girl.

He looked back at her, and for an instant, he was back on Grima's back. He shivered, trying to stifle the image he knew was coming before it could form fully. Robin grimaced, placing his right hand over his heart. "Running away from the pain, huh...?" he murmured. He closed his eyes, and suddenly a vision of Lucina prone in a pool of her own blood leapt to mind. He shuddered, and his breath caught sharply.

Lucina looked at him with some curiosity. "Robin?"

His eyes snapped open. He was still for a moment, then blinked. "...Sorry. Didn't mean to zone out there. One of the problems with having a limited pool of memories is that it's harder to get away from the bad ones." He met her gaze. "I wish I could say something profound about how to overcome your pain, but I'm afraid I'm still too mired in my own to be any help."

Lucina studied his eyes. "...Forgive me. I had forgotten that I am not the only one who has experienced such loss."

Robin shook his head. "I don't think it's comparable. I lost my friends—no, my family—but you lost your whole world." He leaned back. "I can't even imagine how someone could go about healing that wound. But I suppose saving this world might be a good start."

Lucina stared at his for a moment, then smiled. "You make that sound so simple. As if it's not a question of _if_ we'll save the world, but _how_."

He glanced at her. "And that's a bad thing?"

She chuckled. "No. In fact, I think it's a very good thing." She became a bit somber. "...It's fortunate that I met you. By myself, I fear I would have been overwhelmed by now."

Robin became a bit more serious as well. "...I'm glad that you found your way here. For a while, I was afraid that I really would have to do all of this by myself."

Lucina smiled. "Somehow, I think you would have been able to manage."

Robin shook his head, holding out hand his unmarked hand to study it. "I don't know about that. I'm just one man, after all. But hey, at least I'm a decent shoulder to cry on."

Lucina flushed, suddenly realizing that she had just displayed a moment of intense vulnerability in front of a man she had known for barely two weeks. Robin realized his misstep as well, and an awkward silence hung in the air.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , Robin silently berated himself.

Lucina stood up, reaching down to collect her untouched tray. "Forgive me, but the stress of the day has caught up to me. I'm going to retire to my room now," she said.

"Of course," he replied, avoiding eye contact. Robin watched quietly as she made her way to the door. She pulled it open, but paused a moment. She turned back to Robin, and for a moment his breath caught as he saw the brand in her eye seem to shine.

"Robin... Thank you. Truly," she smiled quietly before slipping through the door, not waiting for his reply.

Robin blinked, his mind unusually blank. He sat there for a few moments, then leaned back, staring at the stars. Some time passed in still silence.

He sat up. "...Why the hell am I sitting out here alone in the cold?" he muttered before gathering up his food and heading inside.

* * *

The next morning, from atop the Longfort, Robin and Lucina watched the Shepherds approach the gate.

"So those are the Shepherds..." Lucina murmured.

Robin grinned, invigorated. "Yep. That's them, all right."

Lucina noted that Robin's face was bright like a small child's.

 _It's not surprising. Even if they're different, these are still the first people he ever knew_ , she mused.

Below, they watched the Shepherds marshal into formation as Chrom began to shout up at Raimi.

"You know, we could have simply informed Khan Basilio that Chrom was on his way here," Lucina noted.

Robin quirked an eyebrow at Lucina's use of her father's proper name. "...Well, where's the fun in that? It'll be good training for them, and you get to see how your father fights."

Someone less familiar with Lucina wouldn't have noticed how her lips tightened at this remark, but Robin didn't miss the expression before it disappeared. "...And you, how Reflet commands?" she asked.

Robin chuckled. "Am I that transparent? It's true, I am curious about that, but I also want to learn more about her light magic. There was nothing like that in my world."

Both of them perked up at the sounds of argument downstairs. They peered over the ledge, where they could see Raimi's guard forming up, javelins at ready. Their target was clear.

"Father!" Lucina gasped. She made to run for a stairway when Robin shot out his arm, blocking her. She wheeled on him in confusion.

"You won't make it in time," he explained. "This happened in my world, too. Sumia should save Chrom, so we have nothing to worry about. However..." He drew an Arcwind tome from his coat and perched on the ledge. "If intervention is necessary, then I'm the one best-suited to be performing it."

Lucina's jaw dropped as she realized Robin was positioned to leap off the wall. "You aren't...!" she began to say. "...That's crazy!"

"A measure limited to extreme necessity, to be sure," Robin said nonchalantly. "But it's not like I don't know how to survive a fall from this height. I'm not about to leap to my death. That said, I'd prefer this fight to unfold without our interference if at all possible."

"What is throwing yourself off this wall going to accomplish?!" Lucina asked in disbelief.

"I'll use the magic of _Acrobat_ to accelerate, use Arcwind to knock the spears off course, and then use _Acrobat_ again in the opposite direction to cancel my velocity," Robin replied, as if what he had outlined was a rote sequence. His eyes were darting, cycling from the Feroxians, to Chrom, to a still-grounded Sumia.

Before Lucina could further protest this course of action as madness, the guards hefted their javelins. Robin's breath hitched. He flipped open his tome and began to channel magic into his legs, but a sudden movement caused him to pause.

The seeming absurdity of Robin's plan aside, fear for her father spurred Lucina to grab Robin's shoulder. "Robin, hurry! Father will-!"

Robin silently cut her off, raising his hand abruptly, then pointing to Reflet, who was dashing to Chrom's side. Lucina's eyes widened and she gasped as she understood.

The javelins fell, and a bright prismatic sphere appeared around Chrom and Reflet. The projectiles harmlessly bounced off the magic, landing with muted "thunk"s in the snow.

"...Reflet saved him?" Lucina asked in confusion. "But I thought you said..."

"That... That's not what was supposed to happen..." Robin murmured, brows furrowed.

Lucina looked at him questioningly. "Robin?"

He put his hand to his mouth, pensive. He sat back cross-legged on the rampart. "Sumia was supposed to save Chrom just now. So why did Reflet...?"

Lucina took a steadying breath, trying to slow her racing heart. "...Perhaps this is just another difference between our worlds?"

Robin seemed troubled. "Perhaps..."

The princess cleared her throat. "Well, what's most important is that Chrom is unharmed. The manner in which he was protected is irrelevant."

Robin frowned, resting his chin in his hand. Something that Lucina had said was bothering him tremendously. "...Lucina. Why are you calling him "Chrom" now?"

She flinched, then straightened her back. "You said he is not my true father, did you not?"

Robin grimaced. "No, I implied that he wasn't your _birth_ father. There's a difference."

"...Maybe so," she said quietly. "But until I become more familiar with him, it would be imprudent to treat him as more than a stranger."

"You called him "Father" when you thought his life was in danger," Robin noted.

"I... I am still adjusting to what you told me. It is difficult to divorce the notions I had been laboring under."

Robin winced. Just because he hadn't intended for this change in mentality to occur didn't mean he hadn't had a hand in it. Guilt was clawing at him now, and he struggled to think of a way to remedy this situation. "...Look, I can't say what's right or wrong here. But at the very least," he said, pointing to the Feroxian soldiers who were streaming down to the ground level, "Watch Chrom now. Watch him fight. Cross blades with him yourself, and _then_ tell me whether or not you see any of your father in him."

Lucina was silent a moment, then nodded and joined Robin in vigil of the border skirmish.

* * *

"Come and get some, ya bastards!" Sully yelled as the Feroxians charged her. Her lance caught a fighter in the shoulder, knocking the man off his feet and throwing him to the ground. A soldier's lance jabbed at her, narrowly grazing her cheek. "Son of a bitch!" she grunted before swatting it aside and stabbing the man in the gut. He staggered back, but another replaced him. Sully reared back, pulling her lance for another strike. She lunged forward, but the Feroxian ducked under her weapon and darted in close.

"Oh shit!" Sully shouted.

The soldier readied his own lance. Realizing that she couldn't avoid the attack, Sully braced herself for impalement.

But the expected pain never came. There was the loud clang of metal on metal, and then the Feroxian suddenly collapsed, unconscious. Sully blinked a moment, then nearly fell off her horse from shock when she realized that a familiar armored knight was standing next to her.

"Tin Man?! When the hell did you get here?!"

Kellam frowned. "Um, I've been with you guys this whole time. You really didn't notice? I stabbed that gigantic Risen at least five or six times..."

"Friggin' hell, cough or something next time, dammit!"

* * *

Robin's eyes danced across the battlefield as the fight unfolded. The Shepherds had already secured the grounds, and were now making their way up the stairs. So far, not a one of Reflet's decisions in tactics and strategy had aligned exactly with what Robin himself had done three years prior.

Robin preferred surgically precise hit-and-run incursions to take advantage of enemies' weaknesses in formation, using surprise and momentum as his primary tools. Reflet, on the other hand, seemed to favor a much more steady and methodological approach, baiting the enemy soldiers into ambushes and advancing cautiously once immediate resistance had been subdued.

 _Perhaps that's why she has the barrier magic and I don't?_ he laughed to himself.

He glanced at his companion, who was with keen interest watching Chrom duel two fighters simultaneously. The prince deftly disarmed one, then knocked the other unconscious by striking the man's head with Falchion's pommel. Together, he and Reflet charged a now undefended Raimi.

Sensing that the outcome of that particular fight was a foregone conclusion, Robin surveyed the rest of the Shepherds, who were all engaged in their own personal battles. As he watched them fight clumsily and amateurishly, an uneasy feeling began to brew within him; a profound sense of displacement permeated his being, and he was forced to avert his eyes back to where Raimi was squaring off with Chrom and Reflet.

Robin winced in sympathy as Raimi charged headfirst into Reflet's surprise barrier spell, once more being knocked flat on her back. The rest of the Feroxians surrendered soon afterward. After the Guard Captain had been helped to her feet, she bowed to the prince, said a few words, then headed through a door, presumably to announce Chrom's arrival to Flavia. The Shepherds loitered about outside, grouping up to chat amongst themselves while the Feroxians pulled back to lick their wounds.

"Poor woman," Robin laughed dryly, gesturing to the door Raimi had passed through. "This is probably the worst week she's had in a long while."

Lucina looked at him, her face inscrutable behind her mask. Something about his tone, its hollowness, had struck her as unusual. "Are you alright, Robin? Something seems... _off_ about you right now."

Robin smiled sadly. "It's weird. Everyone is as they should be, and yet at the same time, everything seems so wrong." He pointed his finger. "Look, Vaike should be showing off to impress Miriel, but instead he's getting patched up by Lissa." He pointed again. "Sully should be giving Stahl crap about his horse-riding, but instead she's berating Kellam. None of them are behaving the way I expect them to. It's like they're strangers I've known my entire life," he laughed. His expression softened. "...In spite of what I said the other night, I guess it still hadn't really sunk in completely until now. Everyone I knew is gone."

It surprised Lucina how frail Robin looked at that moment. She gently placed her hand on his arm. "...I'm sorry. I wish I had words that could console you."

He smiled. "I appreciate the sentiment all the same."

Lucina smiled faintly, then turned her gaze back towards Chrom. "...Robin?"

"Yeah?"

"Is Chrom as you remember him?"

Robin glanced to Chrom, who was laughing about something with Reflet. He was careful not to make the resulting observation aloud.

 _Mostly. Just one problem: Chrom should be chatting up Sumia right now._

"...Yeah," he replied, his smile this time a bit forced.

"...I see..."

Robin scratched his head, then hopped back onto the walkway. "C'mon. We should probably head inside before someone notices us." Lucina followed suit, but before either of them took a step further, Robin slapped his palm against his forehead, staring at Falchion.

"Ah, damn. Can't believe I overlooked that."

Lucina tilted her head quizzically. "What is it?"

Robin pointed to Falchion. "Chrom doesn't know who you are, but he _does_ know you're from the future. He can be incredibly dense sometimes, but he's not an idiot. He's going to eventually put two and two together if he sees you wielding that sword."

Lucina started; this thought clearly had not occurred to her either.

Robin unbuckled his silver sword from his belt, proffering the sheathed weapon to her. "Here. I can fight with just tomes. You can use this for the tournament."

Lucina carefully took the sword, unsheathing it. She took a few trial swings, but the way she pursed her lips made clear her dissatisfaction with the weapon. "I'm unused to the weight. In my world, we were fortunate if we could stumble upon weapons crafted from steel. This is my first time holding a silver blade." She resheathed the sword and handed it back to him.

Robin frowned as he rebuckled the blade to his belt. "Hmm. Suppose I should have thought of that. It's fine though. I'm sure the Feroxians have plenty of weapons lying around. There's got to be something you'd be comfortable with."

She shook her head. "No weapon could be as comfortable to me as Falchion. The blade is like an extension of me; I could feel no more secure replacing my arms with those of another."

Robin ran a hand through his hair as the two began to walk towards a staircase. "I understand Falchion's importance, but aren't you trying to avoid Chrom finding out who you are? I thought that was the whole point of the mask."

"...The only purpose of this mask is to ensure that Chrom makes the choices of his personal life entirely of his own volition. Even if he comes to harbor a suspicion that I am his child, it does no harm so long as he learns nothing else about me."

"...You realize that by doing this you inherently accept the possibility of Chrom and Sumia not ending up together, right?" Robin asked quietly.

She stopped mid-step. "...I have faith in their bond. If they are meant to be together, then they will be. But if not... Then I have no right to impose my own desires. Their lives are their own." She resumed walking, her pace somewhat more hurried now.

Robin gave one last glance back at Chrom and Reflet.

 _I hope you don't have to put your money where your mouth is on this one, Lucina._


	7. Warrior Realm II

Reflet bolted upright in her bed, breathing heavily. It took her a few moments to reconnoiter herself—she was in one of the rooms Flavia had set aside for her champions, tangled in sheets slick with her own sweat. Reflet struggled to calm herself, focusing on the hand that she had most certainly not used to run Chrom through just now.

"...W-Why did I dream that?" she whispered. She shivered and pulled the covers tight around herself.

* * *

Robin cursed under his breath, gingerly rubbing the spot on his head that had collided with the floor. He dragged himself up out of the awkward position he now found himself in, having fallen out of bed. Mild head trauma was not the worst on the list of ways Robin had been woken up in his life, but it was up there. He leaned against a wall, collecting his breath as he looked at the sheets that had been strewn about before his unconscious thrashing had sent him over the edge of his cot.

He exhaled deeply and closed his eyes, shaking his head as he made a futile attempt repress the horrific images still imprinted in his mind. Of the nights he had spent on this visit to Regna Ferox, this was the third time he had witnessed this terrible vision.

"Honestly, I think I might have actually preferred the _old_ recurring nightmare..." he muttered.

* * *

Reflet yawned loudly as she headed towards the throne room. What little sleep she had managed to snare following her nightmare had been fitful and restless. Hers was not a particularly good state to be in on a day when she might help decide the fate of a country, but she would have to make do.

Some commotion had been audible from down the hall, but it was only once she entered the room that the source became apparent. Chrom was engaged in a heated argument with Flavia, and neither seemed ready to back down.

"Why are you barring me from fighting in the tournament?!" Chrom shouted.

"Because, as I already explained to you yesterday, prince, the whole point of this championship is to prevent pointless blood feuds," Flavia snapped. "Fat lot of good that does us if a champion getting killed drags Regna Ferox into a godsdamn war!"

"And as _I_ already told _you_ ," Chrom fired back, "I've sent a sealed missive back to Ylisstol absolving Regna Ferox of responsibility in the event of my death! And on top of that, Ylisse already has enough enemies as it is! We have our hands full with Plegia and the Risen! What kind of idiots would wage war with the country they came to seeking protection?!"

"Prince Chrom is correct. Engaging Regna Ferox in open war would be tantamount to suicide for fair Ylisse," Frederick added. "That said, I readily agree with your decision not to indulge milord's suicidal tendencies, Khan Flavia."

Chrom scowled at his attendant for that last remark.

"You want to get killed so badly, do it on your own soil," Flavia said sternly. "I don't care what kind of missive you sent. Wars have been started for far more ridiculous reasons than a slain prince."

"I have no intention of dying," Chrom replied firmly.

Flavia sighed. "Do you have _any_ idea how many champions I've heard say something like that? I can show you their graves if you'd like."

"Oh, I take it that dying in the arena counts as death in battle?" Reflet piped up. "Feroxians only give marked graves in three cases: for their khans, for those who died in battle, and for those who died in childbirth. So I figure that..." She trailed off as she looked back and forth to Chrom and Flavia, who were both wide-eyed. It seemed that neither had noticed her enter the room.

"...I did that thing again where I spout off a piece of information without knowing how I got it, didn't I?" Reflet asked.

"Umm... Right... You're the Ylissean tactician, isn't that so?" Flavia questioned. "Please help me explain to the prince here why allowing him to risk his neck in the arena is beyond stupid."

Reflet glanced to Chrom, who was giving her an expression that she construed as "I don't care if you have to _lie_ to her, just get her to let me fight". She internally shrugged; Flavia's argument was sound, but she wasn't the one paying Reflet's salary.

Well, technically Chrom hadn't done so either, yet, but that wasn't what actually mattered. What was important was that Chrom wanted to lead the charge, and Reflet was more than willing to unquestioningly follow after.

She put her hands on her hips. "Except for perhaps Frederick, Chrom is the strongest fighter we have. And more importantly, he's the spearhead of the Shepherds. This group is what it is because of him. Asking us to go into a fight without our leader costs us much more than the strength of one man."

Flavia raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You make it sound like you intend on fighting as well."

""A tactician isn't fit to send troops into death unless he or she is willing to go alongside them"," Reflet recited. She suddenly stop and blinked. That phrase wasn't one she could recall ever hearing, yet she was certain that _someone_ at some time had told it to her. She furrowed her brow, concentrating, but the haze remained unpierceable.

Flavia laughed, oblivious to Reflet's unease. "I like you! And here I was, thinking tacticians were just worthless toads who cowered while others did the dirty work." She grinned. "But tell me, my dear, can you back up your talk?"

Reflet snapped to attention, then gave a slight smile. "Oh, believe me, I can do _more_ than that." She drew her personal tome, cracked open its white cover, then flipped through its pages. Flavia raised an eyebrow in interest, then opened her mouth slightly in wonder when Reflet summoned a barrier.

"Amazing... So _you're_ the mage Raimi was talking about. No wonder she got manhandled." Flavia turned towards Chrom. "It's not every day you run into this sort of prodigy. I haven't been this impressed since the first time I saw Lon'qu handle a sword. Where'd you find this girl?"

"Um... In the woods. In the dead of night. Being chased by literal monsters."

"That about sums it up," Reflet nodded.

"Uh... I see. And what were you doing before _that_?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Reflet sighed. "I woke up in a forest one day with no idea who I was or how I got there. The first interaction with another person that I can remember was Chrom saving my life."

Flavia perked an eyebrow and grinned. "Oh? Well look at you, Mr. Prince Charming," she said to Chrom, who was beginning to flush slightly. "Seems you found a gem in the rough." She rubbed her chin, smiling suggestively. "If I were you, I'd keep her close at hand."

Chrom narrowed his eyes. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Only as much as you make of it," the khan replied candidly. "Given, of course, that she doesn't bite it in the arena. Now _that_ would be a real waste."

Reflet immediately sensed an opening. She raised a finger. "You're making an assumption, Khan Flavia. I never said I would fight for Ylisse's interests. I owe Chrom my life and everything that came after, so of course I'd be willing to lay myself on the line for him."

Chrom's eyes widened. "Reflet-"

She cut him off with a raised hand; it was important that her line of thought not be interrupted. "But aside from him? I don't have any loyalties. Don't get me wrong, I like the Shepherds and Ylisse. But I'm not willing to die for them. I probably will be someday, but you can't expect me to forge bonds like that when I only have barely a week's worth of memories."

Chrom pursed his lips. He wasn't sure how much of this Reflet was fabricating or exaggerating in order to convince Flavia, but the notion that the tactician was beholden only to him gave him equal measures of unease and a strange, but not unpleasant feeling that he couldn't describe.

Flavia narrowed her eyes. "What are you trying to say?"

"Package deal. Either Chrom fights, or I don't," Reflet bluffed. If Flavia insisted, the tactician would have little choice but to back down; while she was making it appear that she was only willing to fight when at Chrom's side, Ylisse's interests were Chrom's interests, and as such, she would do whatever she could to achieve them.

Flavia's expression hardened, and for a moment, Reflet feared that the khan would call. At last, Flavia sighed.

"Alright, alright. You've got me over a barrel. I'll admit, I'm getting a bit desperate," she conceded. "That bastard's had the throne for far too long for my liking, and maybe the prince will be fine if you're watching his back."

Chrom's face lit up. "You're going to let me fight?"

"I'm not thrilled about it, but yes."

Frederick sighed loudly.

Flavia continued. "The oaf might be one of the greatest fighters alive, but hell if he isn't terrible at running a country. Basilio was born to be a general, not a king. Taking the Head-Khanship for myself is just as much for the good of the nation as it is my personal satisfaction. You lot seem like my best chance, but I'm still worried. I thought I already had my hands full trying to find someone who could beat Lon'qu, but then a couple of strangers show up out of nowhere, hand ol' Scowlface his ass, and just like that Basilio has two even _stronger_ champions."

Chrom grinned. "It doesn't matter whom those people are. We'll defeat them all the same."

* * *

Robin idly deflected a number of jabs from Lucina, using his silver sword to swat aside her Falchion with no apparent effort. Lucina grunted and darted in, swinging low, but Robin easily blocked her blade with the pommel of his own. She immediately jumped backward, trying to size her opponent up. It took her a moment, but she spotted an apparent opening, a minuscule gap in Robin's defenses. She charged, throwing out a series of strikes meant to back Robin into a certain position. When she judged his flank to be adequately exposed, she rushed him, aiming to end the battle in one strike.

Robin casually sidestepped her and batted Falchion away, bringing his blade up to her throat in a single fluid motion.

"Dead," Robin noted lightly.

Lucina sighed. It was the expected outcome, but that didn't cause her pride to sting any less.

Robin rested his sword against his shoulder. "You can't fall for such obvious feints. Try to be a bit more discerning about when someone's trying to bait you."

"Understood," Lucina murmured. Feints were not something she had much experience dealing with; excluding the few surviving members of the Grimleal, her only opponents had been Risen before she came to this world. And none of those had been intelligent enough to fight in such a manner, save for the Deadlords, who had all been exterminated at tremendous cost before she had even become a teenager.

"You're improving dramatically," Robin said as they began another bout, in an effort to cheer her up. "You certainly learn faster with a blade than I do."

"I'm skeptical about the extent of my progress," Lucina replied dourly, barely deflecting Robin's attack. "After all, I have yet to force you to use more than one hand while we spar."

"Oh, that. Don't worry about it too much," Robin said nonchalantly, gradually increasing the speed of his swings. "I generally only use swords one-handed anyway so that I can use tomes at the same time."

Lucina grunted, struggling to keep up. "I've never seen a style— _ugh_ —quite like yours. Where did you learn it?"

"Nobody taught me it per se. It's an amalgamation of sorts," Robin explained, deliberately bringing the pace back down to a level Lucina could manage to maintain. While her technique and natural skill were impeccable, her practical application, strength, speed, and endurance all needed improving before she could match him. "I learned things from Chrom, Lon'qu, Gregor, Say'ri, what little I saw of Yen'fay before he died, Basilio, Flavia, and the other Lucina as well, of course. I cobbled all those bits and pieces together, incorporated my tomefaire, and here we are."

Their swords locked. "I see..." Lucina murmured. "Do you think I might be able to achieve something similar? My own style, I mean."

Robin blinked. "I don't see why not. The other Lucina always seemed to heavily favor Chrom's fighting style and seldom deviated from it, but there's no need for you to impose that limitation on yourself. She knew offensive magical abilities, so perhaps if you- ...Hey, is it just me, or did it suddenly get very quiet in here?"

Lucina raised her eyebrows, then looked around the arena. The other champions representing Basilio, a mix of mages, axe fighters, and armor knights, had all stopped their own sparring and were staring at the duo in shock. Apparently, each of the individuals had taken notice of Robin and Lucina's match.

Robin glanced around. "Oops. We might be overdoing it a bit."

"Really?" Lucina asked. "You didn't even seem to be trying at all."

"I think that's what scares them."

* * *

Reflet's words from earlier ate away at Chrom as the Shepherds approached the arena. He glanced at his tactician, who was shivering and pulling her coat tighter around herself. Guilt gnawed at him; the girl could have just as easily been asleep in a warm bed somewhere else right now, instead of trudging through the elements so that she could risk her life for him.

"Reflet, are you sure you want to do this?" he asked suddenly.

She looked up at him, then shrugged. "Like I said, I owe you my life. And until I figure out what I want to do with that, I'm more than happy to help you do whatever it is _you_ want to do."

Chrom's face was downcast. "...I'm sorry."

Reflet blinked. "Huh? What for?"

"For putting you in this situation. You've only had to fight because I asked you to join the Shepherds. You could be safe in Ylisstol right now, but I-"

Reflet abruptly jabbed him on the shoulder. "Stop that talk right now, mister."

Chrom blinked in surprise.

Reflet sighed, then smiled. "Maybe I would be safe in Ylisstol, but I wouldn't be _happy_. I would probably go crazy trying to figure out who I am and what I'm supposed to be doing. But here, with you and your friends, I feel like I don't mind as much about not knowing that. I don't care if I get hurt a bit, so long as I can protect that feeling."

Chrom's eyes widened. "Reflet..." He closed them, then nodded. "I understand. If that's the case, then we'll protect it together."

Reflet grinned. "Well, that's more than enough mushy talk. Look, there's the arena!" she called, pointing to a large circular building up ahead. She immediately dashed off, clearly eager to get inside and away from the cold. Chrom watched her a moment, then laughed and shook his head.

* * *

"Woah... Look at all these people!" Lissa exclaimed, staring up, awestruck, at the mass of spectators taking their seats in the stands. The Shepherds were standing at the edge of the arena's floor, already beginning to run through their warm-up drills.

"Don't worry, darling. We won't be forced to sit with the rabble. Khan Flavia has set aside a special area for us," Maribelle assured.

"Kellam, Virion, watch over them," Chrom commanded.

"As you wish," Virion bowed. Kellam simply saluted before escorting the healers to a hallway that they had been told would lead to the VIP section.

Chrom swept his eyes over a group of the champions representing Basilio, who stood on the other side of the ring. "They're a tough-looking bunch, but we can handle them," he said confidently.

Reflet blinked in confusion as she noticed something. "Hey, Chrom? Isn't that...?" she asked, pointing to a white-haired man wearing a distinctive coat standing amongst the Feroxians.

Chrom's jaw dropped. "Wha-?!" He immediately began sprinting towards the other side of the arena.

Frederick looked as if he were about so suffer a mild aneurysm. "Of all the..." he began to murmur.

Reflet rubbed her chin, pensive.

* * *

" _Robin?!_ " Chrom shouted as he jogged up to the tactician. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

Robin turned his head, then smiled brightly. "Why hello, Chrom. It's good to see you again. Have you been well?"

The prince blinked. "Well, yes, mostly. Thank you for asking. But I have to return to my question: _Why are you our opponent?_ "

"Oh, that," Robin waved dismissively. "Simple. Khan Basilio needs to retain the Head-Khanship. I'm familiar with the decisions he'll make in the future. I can plan around everything he's going to do. But Flavia being Head-Khan could throw all that out the window. One different order in a battle here, one different ally lost there, and who knows what could happen?"

The narrative Robin was spinning came easily to him. After all, the exact opposite of what he was saying was the truth. Chrom didn't need to know that yet, though.

"Then why not have _us_ fight for Basilio?" Chrom asked in confusion.

Robin raised a finger. "Firstly, you're not yet strong enough to beat the previous star champion, Lon'qu, so Basilio wouldn't have any interest in you representing him. Fortunately, that's where _I_ come in," he explained. "That box has already been checked." Robin raised another finger. "Secondly, you all need to get stronger, and in a hurry. The Risen you're encountering at the moment are nothing compared to what's to come. Trial by fire is the best way to forge you all into the warriors you'll need to be." He raised a final finger. "And lastly, you're a known quantity. It's a guarantee that I can beat you. Having you champion for Flavia reduces the risk of someone more dangerous somehow showing up at the last minute. I mean, what if another, _stronger_ blue-haired guy with an ancient legendary sword happened to appear? We might actually have a problem on our hands, then," Robin laughed.

"Forgive me if I'm not amused," Chrom said grimly. "I'm aware we've already had this discussion about you and your reasons for keeping me in the dark, but you must know why I'm here, Robin."

"Of course. You need an alliance to procure soldiers to help curb the Risen problem," the tactician replied.

Chrom scowled. "You know this, and yet you oppose us? Why?! Why do you jeopardize the lives of my people?! You owe me an answer for that much, at least!"

Robin crossed his arms and smiled. "Who said I'm jeopardizing _anyone_?"

It took Chrom a moment, but then his eyes widened in disbelief. "You... Don't tell me that your condition for representing Basilio was..."

Robin nodded. "Indeed."

A grin was beginning to tug on Chrom's lips. "You clever bastard... You went and rigged the whole thing! Well hell, now we can probably just-"

Robin jabbed a finger upward. " _Minor_ note..."

Chrom frowned; he did not at all like the tone Robin's voice had just taken.

"Basilio is unfortunately not nearly so easy to broker a deal with as Flavia is. Ylisse will have to become a vassal state," Robin lied.

Chrom's jaw dropped. "A vassal state?! Are you out of your mind?!"

The tactician shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, but those are the best terms I could get. It's how things went in my time as well." Robin didn't particularly enjoy deceiving Chrom, but he swept aside any guilt, knowing that the truth would make up for it later. "You're free to reject Basilio's extension of protection," he continued. "I can't stop you from seeking alternatives." He glanced sideways at Chrom, and his eyes shined deviously. "...Such as what Flavia might have to offer."

Chrom stared at him quietly. "...I see. So that's how it is. ...Sorry Robin..." he said, slowly drawing Falchion, "But it looks like you're going to have to come up with some new plans."

"Woah-ho-ho!" Robin laughed, waving his hands. "Slow down there, buddy. I like the attitude and the one-liner, but we can't go at it just yet. These championships have traditions, you know. Opening ceremonies and all that."

Chrom blinked, then sheepishly resheathed his sword. "Right. Sorry about that."

At this moment Lucina drew near. "Robin, it's almost time to begin. We should- ...Ah. It's you," she said, having moved her gaze from the tactician to the prince.

"Marth, was it? I should have expected you to be here if Robin was as well," Chrom smiled.

Robin scowled. "What part of "it's not like that" did you not understand the first time?" he muttered under his breath.

Lucina stared at her father evenly. "Perhaps Fate ordained that we meet here today," she said sardonically.

"Perhaps, but I get the feeling Fate's dealing under the table for you two. That doesn't mean I'm going to lose, though!" Chrom stated with determination.

Lucina nodded, then cleared her throat. "May the best soldier win," she replied gruffly before sticking out her hand.

Chrom blinked. "Umm... Yes, right." He glanced over his shoulder. "I should head back. Reflet probably wants to do a last-minute review of our plans. Good luck to you both." He hastily shook hands with the two, then turned and made his way back towards his Shepherds.

A beat passed.

Robin playfully nudged Lucina. "Really? "May the best soldier win"? What the hell was _that_?" he grinned.

Lucina said nothing in response, struggling in vain to suppress the crimson creeping onto her cheeks.

* * *

The arena seemed to reverberate with the cries of its audience as the East and West champions lined up parallel from one another. Robin and Reflet faced each other, as did Lucina and Chrom. Frederick, Sumia, Sully, Stahl, Vaike, and Miriel each eyed their respective opponents, trying to size them up and gain an early advantage.

Raimi climbed atop a stand, then raised her hand. The spectators immediately fell silent.

"Welcome to the 134th biannual Championship!" she shouted, voice booming. "These brave men and women represent our valorous khans in the struggle for absolute rule!" She swept a hand to a raised balcony, where Flavia and Basilio stood waiting.

"The East-Khan, the Shining Lioness, Flavia!"

The crowd cheered.

"And the current Head-Khan, the Stalwart Titan, West-Khan Basilio!"

The crowd cheered yet louder.

"Champions! These are the only rules you need remember! If you yield, you lose! If you are knocked unconscious, you lose! If you exit the boundaries of the arena floor, you lose! And lastly, if you die, you most certainly lose!"

The roar was deafening.

"Take up your positions anywhere you see fit! When the gong sounds, you may begin! May the fittest survive!" Raimi shouted.

* * *

Reflet tugged on Chrom's sleeve. Her eyes had yet to leave Robin. "Chrom, I want to fight him," she said, just barely audible over the audience's clamor. "I have questions that need answering."

Chrom nodded. "I wouldn't expect much from Robin by way of revelations, but I have no complaints. That Marth fellow has been eyeing me ever since we got here anyway. If he wants a challenge, I'll happily oblige."

* * *

The champions took their places around the arena, each person matched with one opponent. Miriel and Vaike were paired with armor knights, Sully and Stahl against fighters, and Frederick and Sumia were tasked with defeating the mages. Reflet had arranged the match-ups well, and now she was preparing to square off against Robin. Chrom watched her with some concern, then turned back toward his own opponent, who for some reason seemed distracted by Sumia.

"Marth, I bear you no ill will, but I can't afford to hold back. I can only promise not to shame you."

Lucina jerked her head toward him, then was silent a moment. "...I didn't expect you to be quite so arrogant."

Chrom raised an eyebrow. "Hmm?"

Lucina slowly drew her Falchion, then crouched. "You should be worried less about my dignity..."

Chrom frowned and moved his hand to his own sword's hilt.

The commencement gong sounded.

"...And more about your life!" She lunged forward, causing Chrom to gasp at her speed as he drew his own Falchion as quickly as he could. The twin blades clashed, scraping against each other as Lucina tried to overpower her father.

Locked into a standstill, it only took Chrom a moment to realize that his sword was mirrored against the stranger's own. "That blade...!" he gasped, then grimaced and shoved roughly, knocking Lucina back a few feet. She skidded a moment, but then immediately retook the offensive, sword humming through the air as she weaved a lethal lattice. Chrom grunted, straining to counter each attack. As more and more attacks were parried, a suspicion began to take root in Chrom's mind: This swordsmanship was much too like his own, only adapted for a lighter frame. An exalted sword style, the mystery of Marth's future-based origins, and what appeared to be a copy of Falchion together raised many questions, but all of them seemed to be conveniently answered by one possibility.

Waiting patiently, Chrom seized the opening he knew was bound to come, easily predicting Lucina's next range of attacks as if they were coming from himself. Lucina grimaced in surprise, and grit her teeth as the twin Falchions locked.

"Tell me, just who are you?!" Chrom shouted. "Who taught you to fight like that? Who gave you that blade?!"

In reply, Lucina tried to knee him in the gut, forcing Chrom to disengage and back away. Lucina regained her poise, twirling Falchion with a flourish before settling back into a stance primed for a lunge. The mask made her expression difficult to read, but Chrom could have sworn that he saw a flicker of anguish before she opened her mouth.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

* * *

On the other side of the arena, Robin cracked his knuckles, grinning like a madman. "This is exciting! I finally get to see light magic up-close and personal!"

Reflet stared at him. "...Are you really so eager to fight me? ... _Brother_?"

Robin's eyes widened a moment, then he scowled. "Dammit, Chrom," he muttered.

"Is it true, then?" Reflet asked. "Are you really my brother?"

Robin considered. _I should just run with this. It's_ technically _true, and the actual explanation would just make everyone uncomfortable. Besides, mentally framing it this way is probably loads easier on my sanity in the long term._

He nodded. "That's right. I'm your brother."

"Then why the hell didn't you say something?!" she shouted.

"...I thought you would be better off without me," Robin improvised. "And this situation isn't cut-and-dry. Like I said, I lost most of my memories as well. But what I do know... Trust me when I say that it's a blessing that you've forgotten your past life. You have a chance for a happy future now, and I wasn't about to take that away from you."

"...What do you mean?" Reflet asked quietly. "What could have happened that you think is so terrible? Do you really expect me to just accept all this vague bullshit and move on?"

"That would be preferable, yes," he replied.

Reflet grit her teeth. "Just who the hell do you think you are?!" she snarled. "What gives you the right to withhold my past from me?!"

Robin sighed. "I'm sorry, but I promise I'm only doing what I think is best for you."

"I don't recall ever asking you to do that!"

Robin tried to resist. He really did. It was just far too easy a shot to take.

 _Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it,_ he silently chanted to himself. _DO. NOT. SAY-_

"Well, in fairness, you don't really recall much of _anything_ at the moment..." Robin noted.

 _DAMMIT._

His "sister" stared at him in disbelief, stunned. Reflet's expression contorted in fury, and she drew her fire tome.


	8. Rival

Robin raised his hands placatingly.

"Ok, so, I _may_ have crossed a line-"

"Cross _this_ , asshole!" Reflet screamed, shooting a burst of flame from her palms. Robin arched his eyebrows in surprise, then pivoted to the side, narrowly dodging the attack. Reflet immediately pressured him, following up with a chain of fireballs. Robin ducked and weaved, barely staying a step ahead. After a particularly acrobatic avoidance, Robin paused, looking around. Reflet seemed to have disappeared.

Suddenly, he heard crackling directly behind him. He wheeled around to find Reflet a few feet away, a large swath of fire brimming between her fingers and straining to be released. Robin's eyes went wide.

The tactician waved his hands wildly, a panicked expression on his face. "H-Hold on a second! Don't! If you do that this close-!"

Reflet smiled maliciously, then wordlessly unleashed her attack on her brother. At this distance, there was no possibility of him being able to-

"Psych!" Robin shouted with a bright grin. He swept his arm wide, batting aside the fireball and deflecting it into a wall.

Reflet stared blankly.

Robin brushed some soot off his sleeve, looking toward where the spell had impacted the wall. "Hmm. That wasn't half bad. Not nearly an Elfire-level of power, but still fairly impressive for a base spell."

"Wha-? B-But I-? You... _How_?!"

Robin shrugged. "Funny thing... Endure enough magic, and eventually your resistance to it goes up to the point where basic spells can't even hurt you."

Sweat beaded on Reflet's forehead. "Y-You've gotta be kidding me! That's insane...!"

"What's insane is how incredible our coats are," Robin replied proudly, holding out his arm to display an undamaged sleeve. "These are enchanted to be fireproof, stainproof, frayproof, waterproof, you name it!"

Reflet blinked, then held out her own sleeve in amazement. "This thing is _waterproof_?"

Her attention snapped back to her brother when Robin drew a Fire tome of his own. His smile held a hint of menace.

"Now then, I believe it's my turn. And while our coats might be fireproof, and _I_ might be fireproof, _you_ are most certainly not fireproof."

* * *

On the opposite end of the arena, father and daughter danced in a frantic duel.

Chrom grit his teeth, bringing his Falchion up just in time to match its mirror.

 _Was Father truly ever this weak?_ Lucina wondered to herself, her own Falchion whistling through the air as it honed in on Chrom again and again. The prince grunted, struggling to hold against Lucina's blistering speed.

The fight was a sobering experience. This wasn't even comparable to her duel with Sir Lon'qu. The movements of the warrior before her were slower, less precise, less lethal. If not for the vague prescience granted him by his familiarity with the Exalted style of swordsmanship, it was likely that Chrom would have already been beaten.

 _Robin was right. I_ am _stronger than this man._

Lucina dealt a powerful overhead blow that should have jarred Falchion from Chrom's grasp. "Should have" being the operative phrase. But once again, Chrom was half a step ahead of her, and his Falchion barely managed to catch hers, his grip enduring the jolt of collision.

 _So why..._ Lucina wondered.

He growled and managed to angle her strike away, then caught Lucina off-guard with an abrupt shoulder tackle that connected with her solar plexus.

 _...So why..._

Gasping, the princess was knocked off her feet for a moment, landing in a haphazard backpedal as she swung erratically to stave off Chrom's follow-up. The prince hesitated for a moment, giving Lucina barely enough time to regain her footing and create a standstill.

 _So why is he able to keep pushing me back?!_

Chrom glared at her intensely, his focus directed entirely towards finding an opening. Although he had already received a number of minute nicks and cuts on his arms, he paid his injuries no mind. Even though this had only been the first point in their bout where Chrom had not been on the backfoot so far, his attitude did not reflect it in the slightest.

 _Why doesn't his spirit waver for even a second?!_

Chrom crouched, Falchion held outward for a lunge. "...You're quite strong," he complimented. "I wonder, where did you get such power? What did you have to go through?"

A realization was beginning to dawn on Lucina. _And why.._.

There was something else in his gaze. Something she was only just now recognizing. Lucina sank into a stance of her own, ready to counter Chrom's attack with the very same technique.

 _And why does he look on me with such pity in his eyes?!_

* * *

Reflet was beginning to get the slight impression that she was the underdog in this fight. For one, Robin's assault was relentless, his stream of fire spells all only narrowly avoided, and Reflet was hardly being given an opportunity to get a spell in edgewise. For another, in the rare moments when Reflet did manage to counterattack with her own fire spells, Robin wasn't even bothering to dodge. He simply allowed them to strike him head-on, grinning cockily when the smoke cleared to reveal that his sister hadn't so much as singed him.

The fact that the audience roared in approval like maniacs whenever this happened wasn't helping matters any.

Reflet's stamina was starting to run thin, and she had nothing to show for it; no matter what part of his body she targeted, Robin seemed impervious. Reflet needed a reprieve, a chance to marshal her thoughts. Instinctively, she called a barrier to block an incoming fireball. And to her surprise, rather than immediately dissipate for its counterattack function, this time the barrier held, a noticeably thicker floating glass-like pane separating her and Robin. She blinked in disbelief.

Robin quirked an eyebrow, rubbing his chin as he surveyed the barrier. "Oho! I didn't know that you could do that."

Reflet looked quizzically at her hand, experimentally opening it and closing it.

 _Just now, what I did was as instinctive as breathing,_ she realized with amazement. _Could it be? Even though my mind has forgotten how to use this power, does my body still remember?_ She grimaced and looked back to her brother. _If I can do more than this... If I can just keep pushing myself... Then maybe, just maybe, can I beat him?_

With a crackling sound and a shimmer, Reflet's barrier suddenly dissipated.

Reflet stared blankly. "...Ah shit."

Robin grinned, conjuring a fireball in his palm. "Well, well, seems you can't keep that type active for too long yet." He flicked his hand, sending the attack speeding towards his sister.

Reflet yelped and hastily conjured another barrier, which only barely formed in time to bear the brunt of Robin's strike. A follow-up fireball immediately struck it again, causing the pane to crack and crumble. Reflet dashed to her left, head tucked low. Robin's eyes easily tracked her, and he casually flung another spell in her direction.

Even within the frantic pace of this exchange, Reflet was still capable of marshaling her thoughts. When she had desired a stronger barrier to protect herself with, one had appeared. Even if she didn't understand it fully, if she could visualize a change in her barrier's properties, it seemed possible for her to make them manifest.

She shot her hand out, a circular barrier appearing to defend her. The flames slammed against it with a loud popping sound, smoke spilling out of the impact point.

Robin, now visibly intrigued, paused for a moment. "Well, well, well... I'd say your abilities are evolving at an astounding rate, but that's not really the case, is it? It's more like everything you've lost is slowly starting to make its way back to you." He smiled knowingly. "It was like that for me too, you know."

Reflet scowled, then drew a Thunder tome. She fired off a quick shot directly at Robin's face.

The tactician sighed. "What, not in the mood for small talk?" he asked as he tilted his head to the side, the thunderbolt zipping by within an inch to the right of him.

Robin's right eye scrunched up ever so slightly as the spell passed, and Reflet perked up, taking notice. But before she could make anything of it, Robin was drawing a markedly different Fire Tome. Something told Reflet that Robin had just upgraded his quite literal firepower, and she gulped.

Robin set off shot after shot, and Reflet, dubious of her barrier magic's ability to withstand the enhanced power, opted to dodge. Dipping, weaving, and somersaulting to avoid damage, Reflet was now running more on instinct than reflex.

Robin laughed to himself, thinking back to battle in front of the Dragon's Table, when Aversa had been knocked off her pegasus and been forced to escape from the Shepherds on foot.

 _The way Reflet is moving is quite a bit like how she did back then._

At the thought of his adoptive elder sister, Robin shuddered as the phantom feeling of pushing a Levin Sword through flesh and bone suddenly ran through him. For a brief moment his concentration wavered as he looked intensely troubled, and this second coincided with when he began releasing his attack. The opening did not go unnoticed by Reflet, who immediately created a new barrier directly in front of Robin. Her brother's eyes widened; it was far too late to cancel his spell. The fireball struck the prismatic wall, which began to shimmer and bead with balls of light.

The spheres exploded with a blinding burst, and for a split second, as she looked at her brother's expression of shock, Reflet thought that she had finally made headway in their duel.

Then Robin vanished in a blur of movement. One instant he was caught up in the counterattack, and the next, he was simply gone.

Reflet gaped, staring at a now tacticianless space.

"Whew, that was close," came a voice behind her. A far too familiar voice. Reflet wheeled around to find her brother standing directly behind her, sword raised overhead. The blade came plummeting down, and Reflet was forced to reflexively cast a barrier spell.

And to her surprise, it worked. She had been certain that she would be too slow, that Robin was too close and too fast to evade, but somehow her spell had made it in time. Robin's weapon glanced off the magic, then he immediately hopped backward, observing the resulting backlash with great interest.

Reflet scrambled away, trying to put distance between herself and her brother. She eyed him warily.

Robin looked up at her. "What a fascinating spell. I thought that its strength would be based on your own magical ability, but it seems that it can somehow directly reflect the power of whatever strikes it. Some potency is lost, of course, given that no spell is mechanically perfect, but it's still rather amazing."

Reflet narrowed her eyes. "Y-You... You let me get away just now, didn't you? You could have forced me to surrender with an opening like that. What gives?!"

Robin grinned smugly. "Well, I'm going to win no matter what, so it might as well be a learning experience for the both of us, don't you agree? By the way, you're exceeding expectations; I really didn't expect you to be able to force me to use _Pass_ this early on. Even Marth hasn't managed that yet." He twirled his sword absentmindedly. "Of course, you won't be able to do it a second time."

Reflet could feel the first tendrils of terror creeping into her. Robin was strong. Far, far too strong. If was becoming clear to Reflet now that if Robin wished it, he could most likely slaughter every one of the Shepherds without suffering so much as a single scratch. Siblinghood aside, she might as well have been a plaything to him, a novelty to be explored before defeating utterly and overwhelmingly.

 _It's pointless. I can't beat him. There's no way I can match his power._

Reflet's eyes widened as an image of Robin's surprised face suddenly flashed through her mind.

 _...Or can I?_

Reflet eyes darted down to her white tome. Robin had avoided the recoil from her barrier spell, where up until that point he had simply allowed her other magic to strike him without effect. Dodging implied some degree of danger, did it not? Dodging implied a desire for avoidance, and a desire for avoidance implied predictability.

And predictability implied potential for defeat.

Hazily, the vague outlines of a plan began to form in Reflet's mind. Defeating Robin in a straight contest would be impossible, she did not question this. The gap in their abilities was too vast, and Robin seemed by all means a shrewd opponent; his eyes were ever bright, quick, and calculating. Reflet swallowed as she gripped her white tome tightly, her mind racing as she struggled to align every piece of available information into a configuration that gave her a chance. It would take near-perfect use of abilities she barely understood, and Robin's confidence blinding him to an opening, but all the same, she could faintly see an ever-so-slight possibility of victory. She swallowed dryly as she eyed the arena walls and the spectators above them.

 _I can't defeat him. But maybe I don't have to._

She drew her Thunder tome.

* * *

Basilio slammed his fist on the table in front of him. "Godsdammit!" he shouted at Robin off in the distance. "Quit toying with her and finish it already, you asshole!"

"...Basilio, where the hell did you find this guy?" Flavia murmured, arms crossed as she leaned against the balcony's edge, eyes honed in on the white-haired man. "How have we never heard of someone this strong...?"

"Hahaha! I'm just as surprised!" Basilio chuckled. "I thought for sure that Marth was exaggerating, but the brat lives up to the hype!"

"He could make a mockery of this entire tournament if he felt like it. Gods, he might even be a match for us..."

Basilio snorted and took a long draught from his tankard. "...Oh please," he scoffed after he finished. "The kid's good, no doubt about it, but he's still a wet-behind-the-ears little shit. _Maybe_ he'd be able to give you or me a serious challenge, but he would never beat me in a straight fight. He's powerful and skilled, and his eyes make it clear he's no stranger to death, but the difference between our experience is like night and day."

Flavia smirked. "Hmph. As overconfident as ever, I see. But I do agree, the kid's still got a bit of softness to him." She scratched her chin contemplatively, her eyes suddenly devious. "Well, seeing as you already have Lon'qu as a protégée, I'm sure you wouldn't mind me poaching this prospect, eh, Oaf?"

Basilio laughed. "Like hell! You think I'm just going to let a free ticket to retaining the Head Khanship for the rest of my life slip from my fingers?!" He took another gulp of ale. "My condolences, by the way. It must sting awfully fierce to know you never had a shot in this year's tournament to begin with."

Flavia leaned her chin on her hand as she eyed first Reflet, then Chrom. "...Hah. Nothing is surefire, Basilio. We've both played out our hands, and while you might hold the high cards, you never know what the river is going to show."

* * *

Robin watched with bemused interest as Reflet struggled to contain brimming lightning between her fingers.

Reflet wasn't stupid. At this point she wouldn't fruitlessly try to harm him with her own magic, so Robin couldn't help but be a bit curious as to her intentions.

No longer able to compress her magic any longer, Reflet let out a shout as she shot a large bolt at her brother.

Or rather, her brother's feet.

Robin quirked an eyebrow as the attack left a small crater in the ground, causing to dust billow out from beneath him. "Oh?" His eyes instinctively homed in on Reflet, who was now darting around to circle him, a fresh lightning spell clasped tightly in her grip. She fired it off immediately, once again targeting the ground near Robin's feet. Even more dust billowed out from the impact, and her intent became clear right as she herself became obfuscated from Robin's view. More and more magic struck the ground as rapidly as Reflet could conjure it, and Robin was soon completely engulfed by the dust cloud.

In all honesty, Robin knew he could probably snipe Reflet with some spell from where he was, in spite of his vision being blocked; he had a rather rudimentary grasp on her movement by this point. And of course, he could always simply use _Pass_ or _Acrobat_ to escape and then corner her. But then, he _was_ supposed to throw the match at some point. Flavia needed to win, which meant he needed to take a dive.

Robin smiled. _At the very least, I should probably make Reflet work for her victory._

He casually drew a Thunder tome of his own. Reflet's was a clever plan, he had to admit. He would have been hard-pressed to come up with something better in her position. And against anyone else, the trick she was about to attempt probably would have worked.

Robin's vision suddenly seemed to shimmer, causing him to grin.

 _Just as anticipated._

He gathered lightning in his palm.

* * *

Reflet warily eyed the cloud of dust, her white tome clutched tightly in her grasp. Her entire body was tense; she half-expected Robin to suddenly tap her on the shoulder. She swallowed dryly.

The dust dissipated, and Reflet breathed a massive sigh of relief.

There remained Robin, completely encircled by a prismatic dome. He stood with his arms cross, looking Reflet dead in the eyes. His twin wanted to laugh; had she actually done it? Had she actually trapped him?

Reflet breathed to steady herself, then grinned and put on a show of bravado. "Go ahead and try getting out of that!" she shouted triumphantly. "That's my strongest barrier, and I can keep it up for as long as I want!"

 _Technically not a lie. Probably._

"Even if you can break it, I doubt you can handle the backlash!" she taunted.

Robin simply smirked, and pointed upward with a solitary index finger.

Reflet looked up, and her jaw dropped. An orb of lightning hung suspended in midair. She blinked in confusion, and then her eyes widened in panic as she understood. The ball was now plummeting downwards; what she had witnessed was the apex of its trajectory's arc.

She took a step backward reflexively. _Oh gods._

The thunder magic collided with the barrier with a loud cracking noise, causing the bubble to shimmer and then shatter outward with blinding force.

None of which was directed towards Robin.

As the last of the light magic faded, Robin took a step out from where his makeshift prison had been. He began to clap slowly. "Not bad, Sis. It was a fine idea, trying to plant a false notion that you were hiding from me, and then using _that_ thought to disguise your plan to capture me with barrier magic. Unfortunately..." he sighed, his tone now more stern, "It was clear that this was your only option. After all, if you yourself couldn't hurt me, then your best recourse would be to make me hurt _myself_. So-"

"...So it was obvious that I would try to trap you," Reflet concluded for him. "You were waiting for my barrier to begin to appear this whole time. You launched that thunder spell long before you became encased."

Robin snapped his fingers. "Correct! If you hadn't been so overly fixated on my position, you probably would have noticed my spell emerging from the dust. What's more, you might have had a chance at stopping it from connecting with the barrier if you had immediately fired your own thunder spell." His eyes narrowed. "You were too attached to a specific part of the plan. You treated it as a constant rather than a variable, and because of that, you lost an opportunity for invaluable information. If I hadn't been able to break the barrier with an external force, what would I have had to do?" he questioned rhetorically.

A chill crawled up Reflet's spine. Robin wasn't speaking as if he had just bested her trump card. Had he really seen that far ahead? Had he already realized that this sequence had only been a ploy to further test her abilities and maybe, hopefully, cheat a little damage onto him?

She grimaced. _No use worrying about that. If he really has figured out what I'm up to, then I can't win no matter what. I just have to hope he hasn't caught on yet. Just have to pretend everything's going perfectly fine._

Robin crossed his arms. "By the way, I'm rather impressed over here. I didn't expect you to be able to form such a complex shape with your barriers. Did you combine multiple spells to pull that off? Or did you somehow manage to use a higher level of the base spell?"

"Why should I tell you, jerk?" Reflet jeered, sticking her tongue out. "And save your praise for after I've laid your ass out!"

Robin blinked, then grinned savagely.

* * *

"Hmm... This isn't going too well," Kellam said glumly, scratching his cheek.

"Whatever do you mean, dear knight?" Maribelle asked incredulously, sitting daintily with her legs crossed while spectating through opera glasses. "Our side is clearly advantaged, save for Lord Chrom's and that Reflet girl's battles."

"That's the problem," Lissa said gloomily, resting her chin on the balcony of the arena's VIP lounge.

Maribelle turned her head towards her friend. "Whatever do you mean, treasure?"

"It's that man, Robin," Virion explained. "The remainder of the bouts may well be meaningless as long as he remains undefeated."

What Virion elected not to reveal, and only concealed with great difficulty, was his mounting excitement. When he had come to this continent, he had only expected the possibility of obtaining the aid of armies. There had been a chance that he could match the might of the Valmese host, but he had not dared to hope he could find a champion to combat their titans. And yet, here, right before his eyes and in less than a month after arrival, he had stumbled upon this magnificent specimen.

 _My gods, this man might be Yen'fay's equal,_ Virion thought to himself. Most other people probably couldn't see through the facade immediately, but Virion could sense the strength hidden within Robin's movements, the same aura of refined and restrained power that radiated from not only from Walhart's right hand, but from the two khans in the balcony opposite. It was apparent to the duke that even this display Robin was demonstrating was but a shade of his true ability.

Virion needed that man's strength. Robin was a diamond glistening in the rough, and Virion needed to snatch him up before someone else did.

Lissa sighed loudly, startling Virion out of his admiration. "Yeah. Robin's super strong. Like _really_ strong. I don't think even Chrom and Frederick together could beat him. But why is he fighting us in the first place? I thought he was our friend..." she pouted.

"There, there, darling," Maribelle tutted. "No need to trouble yourself over the inconsistency of a commoner. Have faith in Lord Chrom. He'll surely carry the day."

"That's not what's troubling me..." Lissa muttered to herself.

* * *

"I yield!" a Feroxian knight shouted.

Frederick calmly pulled his lance out of the man's shoulder, blood spilling out from the clean puncture in his pauldron. He paid no mind to Raimi's declaration of his victory, turning instead to survey the ongoing battles. Though interference in duels was forbidden in this tournament, he _was_ permitted to take a defeated comrade's place. Thankfully, the majority of Shepherds seemed to have the upper hand at the moment. Unfortunately though, much to his displeasure, he had been positioned at the opposite end of the arena from Lord Chrom. From this distance he was unable to discern how his master was faring.

The Knight Commander immediately set off in a brisk jog towards Chrom's location. He held the utmost faith in his lord's abilities, but were he to be bested (Frederick had had to mentally force himself not to consider the word "fall"), then the task of defeating the mysterious Marth would belong to Frederick himself.

Along the way he passed Stahl and Miriel, both of whom appeared to be evenly matched with their respective foes. He ignored them; if they were not currently in a losing position then he had no need to show concern for them.

One last person was between Frederick and his destination. An exhausted Sumia crouched on the floor, panting heavily. A Feroxian mage was staggering away from her, clutching an ugly-looking lance wound to the side. Sumia, for her part, seemed relatively well-off. She smiled up to her commanding officer as he approached.

"I should have known you would win quickly, Knight Commander sir," she laughed.

Frederick permitted himself a small smile of his own. "Tardiness is ill-becoming of my station. And might I say, a job well-done, Miss Sumia."

Sumia laughed. "Thank you, sir." She glanced to Chrom's fight a ways off. "You're going to watch him, I take it?"

Frederick nodded. "Of course.

Sumia sighed. "Well, I'd come with you, but I think I need to catch my breath. Everything's so much _harder_ when you're not allowed to ride a pegasus."

"There's no need, Miss Sumia," Frederick replied. "I am only standing vigil in the event I need take Lord Chrom's place. Forgive my bluntness, but if I am also unable to defeat Marth, then neither will you be capable. I understand that you are worried about Lord Chrom, but it would be best for you to prepare yourself in the event that you need to take the place of another of the Shepherds."

Sumia blinked, cheeks gaining a pink tint. "W-Worried? What do you mean by that! I'm not _that_ worried about the captain! I mean, that Marth fellow-" She suddenly paused. "That Marth fellow..."

Frederick raised an eyebrow as Sumia fell into silence for a few seconds. "...Miss Sumia?" he asked.

Sumia was still pondering. "It's weird. I feel like I know that Marth person."

Frederick widened his eye in surprise. "You've met him before?"

Sumia shook her head emphatically. "No, I'm positive I've never seen him in my life. It's just... Isn't there something kind of _familiar_ about him? Like I just get this really weird feeling that I'm... that I'm _supposed_ to know him, you know?" she explained.

Frederick looked at her, confused. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you mean."

Sumia rested her chin in her hand. "I'm not really sure that I do either."

* * *

Lucina gritted her teeth in frustration. This was maddening. The Chrom who was her father and the Chrom who was this stranger kept alternating, refusing to settle into a constant identity. At one moment he was weak, barely able to hold his ground—an utter greenhorn, powerless and too ignorant of the world to be able to change it, much less save it. A shadow of a man, unworthy of bearing her father's name, much less his visage.

But the next, he bore _his_ exact same eyes: That unflinching resolve, tough as steel, yet tempered by his generous and kind soul. And in those moments, he was just as much the warrior her father had always been, blazing his own path without a single doubt and standing firm against her. A fake who was the genuine article.

Lucina's emotions were reaching a breaking point. She furiously clashed with Chrom, Falchions screeching as they ground against each other.

"Tell me who you really are!" she screamed.

Chrom cocked an eyebrow. "...An odd demand, coming from someone who wears a mask, and especially so soon after I asked you much the same thing." His expression hardened, and once more he had those same damned eyes. "I'm not sure what you mean, but I'll tell you this right now: I'm not hiding a single thing about myself. Everything you need to know about me, you can figure out yourself."

Lucina's jaw dropped a fraction, and in that instant Chrom forced her away with a tremendous heave. Lucina skidded to a halt, her stance maintained, but she found herself unable to renew her assault: Chrom had her pinned by that baffling, pitying gaze.

"There are many questions about you that I'd like answers for, Marth. And somehow I get the feeling there are just as many things you want to ask _me_. It's strange, but in my heart of hearts I don't think either of us truly wants to be fighting the other." He frowned. "But my purpose won't let me spare you that sort of kindness."

A retort flashed through Lucina's mind about her own purpose, far greater than this man could imagine, but the words failed to reach her lips.

Chrom pointed Falchion at Lucina, arm outstretched.

"I have people who need protecting, and you're in my way. And if you won't move, then you will _be_ moved."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Hey all. Sorry about the long wait for this update (and for the accidental fake-out). Turns out I'm a lazy asshole. Who'd have thunk it, huh? Anyway rest assured this story isn't abandoned. There'll be some more meat to the next update, as I'm currently doing revisions to the story. No retcons or anything like that; just typo corrections, slight line tweaking, and reorganization of a few very minor plot details so that the story is more fluid.**

 **Thank you all for your support. I really do appreciate it and always take notice of it, even if I don't respond.**

 **Oh, and if you feel like having your emotions punched in the kidneys, check out my _Fates_ one-shot, _Endless Waltz_.**


	9. Two Falchions

**Author's Note:** _Well, here we are a little more than a year and 400+ followers later. For what was originally meant to just be a side-project as a break from_ Unbound Memories _, the reception for this really caught me off-guard. Thank you all for your support. Every single review, favorite, and follow means something to me, and I'm going to do my best to produce a story that means something to you. This chapter took a while, but it's also the longest in the story to date, so hopefully that makes up for it._ _I'll try to crank out updates at a more acceptable pace from now on._

* * *

Reflet clapped her hands together, then slammed them down on the ground. A barrier materialized around her, forming in the shape of a dome. Just as soon as the spell had solidified, Reflet was already pulling out a Thunder tome. She quickly generated lightning, then lobbed it into the ground, creating a bloom of dust. She rapidly repeated this process, struggling not to cough as she became enveloped.

Robin straightened his posture as he watched the barrier shell fill completely with dust. He had to profess some curiosity; this hadn't been a move he had anticipated. He cautiously approached his sister's defensive measure, his own Thunder tome held in hand.

The barrier abruptly evaporated, and the dust trapped within spilled forth. Robin backpedaled, careful to stay out of the blossoming cloud. He began to circle, searching for signs of where his sister might have exited. He stared up at the heightening pillar. Was she actually still inside there? He stifled the temptation to just use Arcwind to clear the dust; employing a tome of that level would simply be unsporting. Instead, he fired a Thunder into the shapeless mass. He waited a few moments, then heard a muffled sound where his attack must have collided with the wall on the other side. He frowned. It was unlikely that Reflet had avoided that while effectively blind through sheer luck. So how had she done it?

At last enough of the dust drifted upward for Robin to see into where it had been obscuring.

And to his shock, Reflet was nowhere to be found.

Robin whipped his head about, scanning for where she might be hiding. He found no indication of her presence, but his eyes did fall upon something: a single barrier platform, hovering at about five feet off the ground. A thought occurred to Robin: there was one direction he hadn't checked yet. He craned his neck toward the ceiling to find a series of escalating platforms, each roughly five feet above the prior in a staircase pattern. Reflet was just now clambering onto the top one. She got to her feet, then immediately conjured the next step.

Robin gaped in disbelief. _Is she insane? She has to be insane. Was_ I _this insane? I don't remember being this insane._

Beyond adding the risk of falling to her death to an already unwinnable battle, Robin couldn't fathom what Reflet stood to gain from elevating her position. He glanced at the still tangible step hovering near him. _A trap, perhaps?_ Robin inspectively stepped toward the first barrier, the most likely place for Reflet to have rigged something. He pressed his hand down and held it there, but no reaction occurred. The tactician rubbed his chin. _Am I giving her too much credit?_ His eyebrows suddenly shot up. _No. If she wasn't planning on using these for something, wouldn't she dissolve them to keep me from pursuing? Maybe the trap is set on a different panel, or perhaps it's pressure-sensitive and will only trigger if I place too much weight on it._ He glanced upward, where Reflet was just coming to a stop, dragging herself up onto a platform hovering some thirty feet above the ground. She stooped into a crouch, staring down at him as she opened a tome and spread it open. She began murmuring to herself as a pale light began to fill her hands, steadily pulsing in a vibrant rhythm.

Robin tilted his head. _What are you up to? Did you run up there to buy time?_

If he had to make an approximation, Robin would guess that Reflet was more powerful than he himself had been at this point, but he still didn't believe for a moment that at present she could be capable of injuring him with spellcraft. Nonetheless, the obtuse nature of light magic gave him pause. Reflet clearly seemed to be building up to something. Was it possible that through some novel application of the principles behind her power, she could amplify her attacking capabilities enough to injure him? Or was there some other purpose to the spell she was weaving right this moment?

 _Another purpose?_ Robin stood up straight, and couldn't help but begin to chuckle. _Ah. Of course. How careless of me; I almost got caught up in her pace. It should've been immediately obvious._ He smirked up at the platforms, channeling magic into his feet.

Now that he thought about it, he realized that this situation was a better opportunity than he could have hoped for. Admittedly, he had gotten carried away in showing off during this fight, and had been starting to become concerned that he would be unable to throw the match in a believable manner. However, this precarious situation now provided him with an out. Should Reflet fall from the lofty heights she had lifted herself up to, he could jump after her. With a bit of effort, he would be able to catch her, fling her over the wall, then dampen his own impact on the ground with Arcwind. A convincing collision, while painful, would be all he needed to realistically fake falling unconscious. Reflet would be disqualified as well for going out of bounds, but that would be all the better; their match ending in a draw would be far more palatable to Basilio than a straight loss on Robin's part. There would still be the issue of Lucina's match, of course, but Robin wasn't overly worried about that, for even if the princess overzealously defeated her father, she was still not at a level where she could best Frederick afterward in quick succession.

Robin grinned manically as he prepared to release his spell. Here Reflet had gone through all of this effort to set up her trap, and he was about to circumvent it entirely in the space of three seconds.

He could not _wait_ to see the expression on her face.

* * *

"What in the-?! Is that Reflet?! What in the names of the gods is she doing up there?!"

Irritation flickered across Lucina's face as she took in the visible alarm on Chrom's. She lunged, nearly catching her father off-guard. "What does it matter?" she hissed. "What's she to you anyway?"

Chrom's brow jutted up, then he immediately glowered. "You seem to be implying something. Whatever it is, though, it's none of your concern."

Lucina growled and swung with a speed surpassing what Chrom had experienced thus far. The prince only barely managed to deflect the strike, Falchion's tip raking across his cheek and drawing a thin line of blood.

"I beg to differ," Lucina stated simply and quietly before dashing forward, dragging Chrom's full attention back to their duel. As their mirrored blades clashed, Lucina couldn't help but glance up at the female tactician, indignation burning in her gut.

She knew that she didn't have the right to interfere. She knew that it would be wrong to impose her desires upon these people. She knew that she was jumping to conclusions, and treating assumptions as inevitability. And in the back of her mind, she even felt a twinge of guilt for harboring this grudge against someone so close to Robin.

But even still, she couldn't stifle the hatred towards Reflet growing within her.

* * *

An ordinary person would have accepted their limitations. An ordinary person would recognize the futility of struggling against a foe wielding such superior strength.

Reflet was by no means an ordinary person.

Her plan was madness. She recognized that. Without the reckless abandon that came hand-in-hand with being "newborn", she most certainly would never have attempted it. Never mind the fact that in a real battle Robin would kill her twenty times over before she even had a chance to accidentally do it herself.

She struggled to control her breathing. This was the first time she had conjured her barriers without relying on the power stored within the pages of her tome, and the effect was exhausting. Unfortunately, she did not yet have the experience necessary for maintaining a complicated series of spells through an intermediary. Draining though it was, she had no choice but to sacrifice stamina for stability and control the magic directly. A fatal flaw of her plan was that if Robin simply elected to standby and do nothing, she would soon enough be forced dispel her magic and return to the ground, far too weakened from the gambit's failure to present any vestige of a threat.

But Robin would come. She knew he would. Even without taking into account what she had seen firsthand of his personality, a resonance deep within told her that he would invariably chase after her.

She had a trap, of course. It would be stupid not to. It wouldn't be enough to stop Robin, but it would at the very least distract him from the real danger. Dodge the snare, only to stumble into the pit. All she had to do was wait, and he would come, and then he would fall.

 _"Acrobat!"_

Robin leapt up with a burst of strength strong enough to spread a ring of dust beneath him. Then he leapt again from midair, and then yet again, each bound taking him ten feet, each step making audible the clash between magic and atmosphere. In the time it took Reflet to register that her brother was moving, he had already landed on the platform that held her, standing hardly more than a foot away.

Her reaction was less than gracious.

" _Ohgodsshitwhat?!_ " she screamed as she scrambled to her feet, nearly forgetting in in her startled state to hide the spell in her left hand behind her back.

Robin grinned. "Hello, Sister. Fancy meeting you up here!"

"Are you even human?!" she shouted incredulously.

Robin narrowed his eyes. "That's..." He was silent a moment. "... _Yes._ "

"Y-You hestitated!" Reflet yelled, jabbing a finger at him. "Why did you hesitate?!"

"Nothing to concern yourself over," Robin replied nonchalantly, crossing his arms. "After all, you have a few more pressing worries at the moment. Say, for example, terminal velocity, our close proximity, or perhaps your exhaustion from having to maintain such a strenuous succession of spells."

Reflet grimaced.

Robin glanced down at the crowd and the floor below. "Well, it seems you're out of moves. That would make this checkmate, I suppose."

She didn't reply. Keeping her left hand concealed, she defiantly drew her bronze sword with her right.

Robin smirked, eyes focused on where his sister's arm disappeared behind her back. "Trying pretty hard to sell the bluff, aren't we?" he asked.

Reflet tensed up, but maintained her composure. _It's fine. It's fine if he knows. Don't panic, don't panic._ She stepped forward.

Her brother quirked an eyebrow. "Come on now. We both know that's nothing more than a base Thunder spell. A simple ruse to draw me up here and into the range of whatever trap you rigged on the way up. You can't hurt me with that, and you're not going to get a lucky shot off with that sword. What are you going to do? Drop the floor out from beneath us?"

Reflet pouted. "I might." She inched closer.

Robin cricked his neck, already channeling magic into his feet. A light nudge to send Reflet over the edge, _Acrobat_ to save her, Arcwind to save himself. A simple order of operations.

Reflet lunged, her sword aimed straight at Robin's throat. Her brother fluidly drew his own sword in the blink of an eye, batting its bronze counterpart aside. With a flick of the wrist, he yanked Reflet's weapon out of her hand, sending it tumbling to the ground below.

At this moment, Reflet delivered her true attack. She jammed her right arm forward, her spell still tethered by her fingers. Robin reflexively caught her by the wrist, her hand halted inches from his face. Robin smiled. Even if she released this point blank, it wouldn't change the fact that this spell couldn't hurt him.

Robin blinked as he stared at what appeared to be a large, light-filled marble.

... _Wait a second._

He realized with a start that what he was seeing was a Thunder spell contained within a miniature barrier spell. _...Oh, SHI-_

" _Reflet!_ " his sister screamed, covering her eyes with her free arm as she dissolved the barrier spell, finally unleashing the luminescence. Light and lightning poured forth from her hand, covering them both in overwhelming brightness.

For a moment, Robin felt nothing. And then, all at once, everything went a searing white. He snarled, releasing his sister to claw at his face. Though the light spell had done no actual damage, its intensity had temporarily blinded him. Robin's well-honed survival instincts instantly kicked in, and he had to force himself to not reflexively step backward or to draw his sword and cut down his sister.

Reflet grinned coyly and snapped her fingers.

" _Gotcha."_

A barrier sphere formed around Robin. He stiffened, realizing the sudden change in air pressure boded poorly for him.

Reflet clapped her hands, then conjured a long ramp that connected her platform to the audience stands below. She smiled, then unceremoniously shoulder tackled the prismatic cage Robin was trapped in. The ball went rolling down, giving the surprised Feroxians only seconds to clear a path. It collided with wooden seating, exploding in a cloud of light and splinters and leaving a disoriented, disheveled Robin lying on his back.

A complete silence overtook the audience for one moment.

"Champion Robin has gone out-of-bounds! He is disqualified!" Raimi shouted a tad too gleefully from her judge's stand. The crowed erupted into cheers, applause, and a few isolated brawls.

* * *

"Son of a bitch!" Basilio shouted, slamming his fists on the table in front of him loudly and hard enough to knock over his tankard. He slumped back in his seat and clapped a hand to his forehead. "You godsdamn idiot! I told you to finish her off, you showboating asshole! Gods _dammit!_ " He glowered at Flavia. "And stop _smiling_ like that, woman!"

"Oh lighten up, Oaf. That was the best show we've seen in at least a decade," Flavia grinned.

Basilio scowled. "I don't care how cutesy that little trick was. Winning should have been child's play for Robin. ...Did that bastard set me up? Gods as my witnesses, if he did..."

Flavia shrugged. "Ever the conspiracy theorist, I see. Your champ got cocky and got dropped on his head for it, plain and simple. Remember that one time with Lon'qu and the Valmese girl?"

" _That_ was a separate issue entirely and you know it." He leaned back in his chair. "Hmph. Whatever. Congratulations on your victory, Flavia. Even if Marth wins against the Ylissean prince, he's still got three or four opponents left in fighting shape. He's good, but he's not _that_ good."

Flavia cracked a grin. "Hey, cheer up, Basilio. Tell you what, at the celebration feast I'll crack open that pre-Schism vintage I've been saving."

Basilio's eye widened. "Well hell, I would've _given_ you the Head Khanship for that!"

* * *

Robin stared up at the domed ceiling, paying no mind to the Feroxians cursing him out for costing them their bets.

"...I lost?" he asked, dazed. " _I_ lost?! I _actually_ lost?! _Me_?! On a _technicality_?!"

He blinked, then cracked a broad smile.

"Ha... Hahahahaha!"

* * *

"My word!" Virion murmured. "She actually triumphed! To think that such a beautiful face could conceal such a brilliant mind!"

Maribelle sniffed. "Well, I suppose she performed adequately. Still, it was a rather tasteless victory, abusing the restrictions of this country's laws and traditions in such a disrespectful manner."

"Oh lighten up, Maribelle," Lissa grinned. "She was awesome! And did you see the look on Robin's face while he was spinning like that?! Pfffheeheehahaha!" Her laughter quickly devolved into a fit of snorting.

Kellam coughed. "Um, not to detract from Reflet or anything, but I think that Robin fellow might have been holding back a bit."

As one, everyone in the box turned to look at the knight. Lissa broke the silence. "Oh man! Kellam, where did you go?! You missed the coolest fight!"

"I-I never left..."

* * *

Reflet wearily walked down her ramp, dispelling it with a wave of a hand after she reached the balcony's edge. Exhausted, she staggered over to an intact seat, flopping down in it. She ignored the clamor of congratulations from the nearby audience and Raimi's announcement of her disqualification, too focused on simply catching her breath.

 _Sorry everyone... But I think I'm just going to sit the rest of this one out._

She glanced down at her brother, who still lay where he had been deposited. "What are you smiling about?"

"I'm just pleasantly surprised, is all," he responded, sitting upright. "That was a novel little plan you came up with. I never would have thought of using your spell's counterattack function just to produce a high-intensity light. It seems I don't have to worry about leaving the Shepherds in capable hands."

Reflet crossed her arms and tilted her chin. "I don't need your praise. Now then, as promised, you'll tell me everything you know of me since I defeated you."

Robin narrowed his eyes. "I said no such thing."

His sister cracked open one of hers. "Worth a shot."

Robin laughed lightly, then sprung to his feet. He walked over to the balcony and leaned on it, intently watching Lucina.

Reflet stared off into space. "...Say, Robin? Just how much _did_ you hold back against me?"

He glanced back at her. "How much do _you_ think?"

She frowned. "I dunno. A lot. More than I'm comfortable with. At the very least I know I shouldn't have won that fight."

Robin wagged his finger. "Ah-ah-ah. For a tactician, there's no such thing as "should have" or "shouldn't have". Hubris is just another factor to work to your advantage. I lost, and that's all there is to it."

Reflet shrugged. "I guess. All I know is I don't feel as good about this as I thought I would. Like I've been cheated or something."

"Well, now you have a goal to work toward. Maybe next time you'll be able to reach ten percent."

"Are you shitting me?! That wasn't even ten percent?!"

"Of course not. It's not like I had to use _Ignis_ or anything."

"The hell is _Ignis_?!"

"Exactly."

Reflet growled. "Whatever. How's Chrom doing?"

"Getting his ass kicked."

She grimaced. "Oh... So he's gonna lose?"

Robin smiled. "Not a chance."

* * *

Lucina and Chrom circled each other, both breathing heavily. The prince was covered in blood, his clothing torn from multiple close calls. The princess, on the other hand, had fared far better; a few bruises and a nick or two were the extent of her injuries. From an outsider's perspective, "Marth" was undoubtedly on the verge of claiming victory.

That didn't matter to Chrom in the slightest, though. The prince charged forward, swinging Falchion low with brutal force. Lucina deflected it with a parry Robin had taught her, but Chrom turned on a dime and used his momentum to swing like a windmill at her head from the other direction. Lucina flicked her blade upward, bracing the flat of her blade with her forearm as she caught the blow. She was nearly knocked from her feet, but retained her balance and dragged the Parallel Falchion across its counterpart's edge, pressing in on a defenseless Chrom.

The prince didn't panic. He unhanded his sword and deftly stepped to the side, his opponent's blade falling within a hair's breadth of him. He lashed out and grabbed the Parallel Falchion by its crossguard's opening before Lucina could reorient her weapon, then heaved with all of his might, dragging his daughter off her feet momentarily as she clung to her sword. She yelped in surprise as her own momentum propelled her forward and past the prince. Chrom gyrated on the ball of his foot and shoulder tackled her in the back, sending the princess sprawling. She landed in a rough somersault, almost immediately regaining her footing with a feline grace as she pivoted to face her opponent. However, this reprieve granted Chrom enough time to retrieve his own weapon, and just like that, they were back to the same situation they had been in moments prior. They glared at each other, then re-engaged, blades flying through the air.

Lucina could feel an ache growing within her chest. This man's existence was a fallacy. There was no reason for her memories to be stirred by this impostor, no matter how convincing he might be. There was no reason for each of his movements to distract her; their familiarity was an illusion. This man was an obstacle to overcome, not her father. She merely needed to keep that in mind. This man was not her father.

Time stilled as Chrom swung his sword, and suddenly Lucina was four years old again, watching her father demonstrate his technique on training dummies. She could hear his voice, cheerful and confident. She could see the kind glow in his eyes, and the sunlight shining over the Brand of the Exalt he was so proud of.

Her momentary recall costed her, and she was jarred from her reverie just as her Falchion was wrested from her hands. The regalia went tumbling, landing on the floor with a resounding clatter. Lucina lunged for her weapon, but in a flash Chrom drove his own Falchion through the hole in the hilt of the other, trapping it in place. Lucina stopped short, kneeling with a hand outstretched futilely. Chrom calmly yanked his sword out of the ground, then brought its blade to rest near her neck. Lucina was utterly silent. She knew that she was supposed to lose this fight. She knew that she had in fact done so. But even still, she didn't want this exchange to end. She didn't want this connection to waver. There was a desire in her to reach for her blade, to rise to this challenge.

The fact of the matter, though, was that Chrom had won. Lucina quietly held up her arms, palms upturned in the Feroxian gesture for surrender. "...I am bested," she admitted.

The crowd roared as Raimi announced the outcome of the match, and with it, the entire tournament. Chrom was not one to revel in adulation, though. He smiled brightly and extended his hand. "That was an excellent battle. You fought valiantly and skillfully; you should be proud."

Lucina wordlessly took his hand, and in that instant, as she met his gaze, the last of her resistance shattered.

This was her father. Alternate realities and time paradoxes be damned, this was her father.

Chrom hoisted her to her feet. She looked away doggedly, refusing to reconnect eye contact lest her composure crumble. "...I appreciate your words," she said hoarsely. She grabbed her sword off of the ground, then hastily sheathed it and hurried toward one of the arena doors, blinking furiously from the stinging in her eyes.

The prince hesitated, feeling an odd compulsion to call after his retreating opponent, but he stifled it. It was not his place. So instead he turned toward his approaching comrades, eager to share in the celebration of their victory.

* * *

Robin leaned his chin on his palm. Even at this distance, he could tell something had been off with Lucina's body language as she had exited the arena floor. He frowned.

Reflet was draped over banister beside him. "Man, that was awesome. Did you see that thing he did where he dropped his sword?"

"Yeah. Classic Chrom," Robin replied distantly.

Reflet glanced at her brother. "What, are you bummed that your friend lost?"

"Oh no, not in the slightest. However, I don't think my opinion on that is the one that matters right now." He glanced about as he pulled up his mental schematics of Arena Ferox, cross-referencing the layout to determine where Lucina was headed and what route would take him to her most quickly. "C'mon. I need to find Marth, and you'll probably want to catch up with the others. I'll show you the way."

Reflet quirked an eyebrow, then shrugged. "Sure." She stood up, then faltered from a flood of lightheadedness.

Robin glanced at her. "Something wrong?"

She waved dismissively. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Just a bit exhausted."

Robin nodded, then gestured to the far door. Reflet followed after him quietly, and the silence that grew as they passed through corridors and stairwells became permeated with an awkward air.

After some minutes, Robin halted before a large door. "Ok, you just need to go down here and take the third left. I'll be going to find Marth."

Reflet's response was delayed. "...Is this how it's going to be from now on? You show up, do something without explaining anything, then just disappear as it suits you? Are we just pawns to you?"

The corner of Robin's mouth twinged. "No. Get that thought out of your head right now. Everything I'm doing is for the sake of you all."

"Do you have any idea how full of shit you sound right now?" Reflet growled. "Listen up, Mr. Time Traveler-"

Robin's eyes widened. "Wha-?! How did-" He paused. "...Chrom?"

"Chrom."

"Right then, that one's on me for forgetting how godsdamn indiscreet he is."

"See?" Reflet snapped. "You aren't willing to tell me anything! I'm not a puppet, Robin! You don't have the right to try and make me behave the way you want me to!"

"...I'm sorry. Really, I am. It's just..." Robin held out his right hand, spreading his fingers wide. "...Knowing what I know, I can't sit by and do nothing. Our past is darkness, but I can still make our future brighter."

"Give me a godsdamn break! You're just on some power trip! You know what? I don't care! I don't need you! Get your self-satisfaction however you want, but leave me the hell out of it, you-"

"Chrom dies."

Reflet's words turned to ash in her mouth. "...Wha?"

"And so does Lissa, and Frederick, and Sully and Virion, and every single other Shepherd you've met. And not just them. Every last person you will ever call friend, every single person I ever _did_ call friend, will perish alongside them."

Reflet took a step backward. "Th-That's crazy. I don't believe you!"

"That's fine. If I have my way, then for you, what I described will never be anything more than an unpleasant thought."

Reflet felt uneasy. Robin's conviction was too sincere, too self-assured. He believed everything he said with absolute certainty.

But that was preposterous. He couldn't truly be from the future. Never mind the age gap between supposed "twins". Never mind how impossibly advanced his powers were in comparison to hers. Never mind that hauntedness hiding in the furthest depths of his expression.

"...If... L-Let's say I accept what you're saying. How does concealing things from me save Chrom?"

"It doesn't. It's completely unrelated. It's entirely for your sake, because your own fate is far worse."

Reflet locked eyes with him, trying to gauge him. Robin's gaze was hard and resolute.

He suddenly smiled. "Amazing. You're not frightened by that at all."

She blinked, then scowled. "Hey, you could still be a madman for all I know. Why should I be scared of your ravings?"

Robin laughed lightly.

"...So I die, then?" Reflet questioned.

"Death would be a kindness in comparison."

"Then what's my alternative? What are you planning for me?"

Robin grinned. "A completely ordinary life."

Reflet pressed her palm to her temple, sighing. She abruptly jabbed Robin in the chest with her finger. "Let me set this straight. I don't like this. In fact, there's a decent chance I just don't like _you_." She folded her arms. "...But if what you say is true, and muddling about in the dark is what it costs me to keep Chrom safe, then I suppose I can deal with that."

"...He means that much to you already?"

She put her hands on her hips, cheeks reddening. "Well it's not like I have much else for a frame of reference, asshole!"

Robin stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"Gods, you are such a prat!" Reflet snarled. She turned on her heel, making for the door.

"Reflet. Wait, wait."

"What?!" she barked.

"Right now, it's not safe for me to tell you the things you want to know. But someday, that will change. And on that day, I promise I'll tell you absolutely everything I can. I swear it."

She pointedly looked away. "...Whatever. Don't think I won't hold you to that." She passed through the door, leaving Robin alone.

He stared at the exit for some moments, then set out for the eastern wing.

* * *

Lucina leaned against a corridor wall, her mask held limply in one hand as she used the other in an attempt to stem the flow of tears.

"You alright?"

She suppressed the impulse to re-don her mask; she knew whom that voice belonged to.

"I... I'm fine, thank you," she answered. She sniffed, then smiled. "I do not ordinarily cry this often, I swear."

Robin grinned. "Hey, I'm in no position to judge. When I woke up in this world I was sobbing like a baby." He leaned his back against the wall next to her. "...So, can I take it that you've found your answer?"

Lucina sighed softly, rubbing her eye with her palm. "It's strange, but... When I fought Chrom, it was as if I was a child once more. It was so vivid..."

Robin surveyed her quietly.

"I decided that in my eyes, Chrom and my father are one and the same," she continued. "Well, it's not so much that I decided. Moreso that I realized. But regardless, I've no intention of quibbling over semantics any longer. I want to save Chrom. I want to save my father."

"And you will," Robin assured. " _We_ will."

Lucina smiled. "Thank you. But I think that's easier for you to say. After all, how can I protect someone I can't even defeat?"

Robin quirked an eyebrow. "You know, I lost too."

She put a finger to her chin, pondering. "Yes, I suppose that's right. Hmm. With your sister's reputation, I expected your plans to be a bit more airtight."

Robin looked wounded for a moment. "Hey! The plan still worked! A few specifics just varied from what I projected, that's all!"

"That was... a joke?"

Robin blinked, then narrowed his eyes. "Really?"

Lucina frowned. "A poor one, I take it. I'm told humor has never been my forte."

Robin laughed. "Trust me, I'm not surprised. Don't worry though. I can cover the both of us in the wit department. And hey, if you hang around me long enough, maybe you'll get a knack for it."

Lucina looked up at the ceiling. "That would be nice. The others always seemed happy when they were laughing."

Robin snapped his fingers. "Speaking of which...!"

Lucina whirled her head toward him in expectation.

"We've got some time to kill before the assassination attempt. Kjelle should be showing up in northern Ferox any day now, so we'll go and find her. And since the Shepherds are going to head back to Ylisse, we'll have them pick up Laurent from the mirage villages. Poor bastard's already been there for three years..."

"And the others?" Lucina asked excitedly.

Robin frowned. "Sorry, but that's all for now. Noire and Nah do arrive in Ferox, but we didn't find them until after the Valm campaign. We'd be wasting time searching for them if they're not even here yet."

Lucina sighed dejectedly. "I understand. Well, regardless, any reunion will be a blessing."

Robin nodded, then stood up straight. "C'mon, we should go talk to Chrom. The sooner we do that, the sooner we can leave. ...I kind of want to get the hell out of here without having to speak with Basilio."

She fell into step with him, slipping her mask back on. "How surprising. Even the mighty Robin has people he's afraid of?"

He scowled. "For someone who can't tell a joke to save her life, you're obnoxiously good at teasing." He shrugged. "Basilio's probably a little sore right now, and his temper can flare quickly, but he generally keeps an even head. I can patch things up with him later, but I don't want to deal with a confrontation right this moment." He craned his neck. "Pity we'll be missing out on that feast, though..."

Lucina became alert. "Feast?"

"Down girl. We're probably not invited anyway. Spoils to the victors and all that."

She pouted. "Oh..."

"Yes, yes, such is the thorny path we tread," Robin responded, waving his hand. "...Ah!" he suddenly exclaimed.

"What is it?"

"If Vaike was Lissa's husband in your world, then he couldn't have been Miriel's like in mine. Who's Laurent's father then?"

"Sir Stahl."

Robin stared blankly ahead, then squinted in confusion. "What? _How?_ Why is your timeline so godsdamn _weird_?"

"I can't confess to thinking it any stranger than Sir Stahl having been wed to Lady Sully as in your world."

"They're the Bull and the Panther! Of course they go together!" Robin retorted, clearly mildly exasperated.

"Well, then what of Sir Kellam, if he was not married to Lady Sully?"

"He married Panne. Something about how she was the only one who could always tell where he was."

Lucina's jaw dropped. "But Lady Panne goes so splendidly with Sir Ricken!"

Robin's hands flew up to his hair. "What? _What?!_ Are you listening to yourself right now? Are you listening to the insanity spilling forth from your own mouth? In what godsdamn world does that partnership make even one freaking iota of sense?!"

Lucina came to a halt. "Robin..."

"I mean putting aside the offsetting age discrepancy, what about their completely disparate personalities?" he asked, gesturing animatedly. "Under what circumstances would she fall for him?! They don't even mesh well on the battlefield! Trust me, _I_ would know!"

"Robin..." Lucina repeated, voice somewhat more urgent.

"I mean if there's anyone Ricken should end up with, it's clearly Ma-"

"Robin!"

He blinked, stopping short. Caught up in his ranting, he had failed to notice that a figure was in their path. Virion approached at a brisk pace, smiling freely.

"Ah, what fortune! I feared you had already departed. You see, I have urgent business with you, Sir Robin."

The tactician quirked an eyebrow. ... _Valm?_ he thought. "...No need to call me "Sir". We're friends, after all."

Virion tilted his head. "Much to my chagrin, I must once again admit that I hold no recollection of our initial acquaintance. I fear you must find me woefully inadequate as a friend."

Robin shrugged, waving his hand dismissively. "It's fine, it's fine. Not your fault. Don't worry about it." He eyed Virion inspectively. "Well, I already have a guess, but what brings you to me, Virion?"

"A matter of dire necessity, I'm afraid." He glanced at Lucina. "My masked friend, might I ask that I speak with your compatriot in private?"

Robin shook his head. "Any matters you wish to discuss with me can be spoken of with Marth present."

Virion pursed his lips. "Forgive me, but I'm afraid I must insist. The specifics of this conversation are of grave importance, and require the utmost delicacy and secrecy."

Robin grinned. "Is that so, Duke Virion of Rosanne?"

The nobleman's eyes widened in shock, words failing him as he struggled to register the implications of a compromised identity.

"You rather enjoy doing that, don't you?" Lucina murmured.

"Oh yeah, it's the best," Robin exclaimed, clearly amused by the reaction his revelation had elicited. "There's nothing like letting someone know that you know things they don't want you to know."

Virion quickly gathered his wits, recollecting his composure. He cleared his throat. "Yes, quite. Unfortunately, you've just now put me in a rather perilous predicament." The man silently slipped his hand closer to the blade concealed in his doublet. If, in the worst case, these two were servants of Valm, then Virion recognized that he had no chance of overcoming them in combat. He cursed himself for not having the foresight or patience to choose a venue to approach Robin that afforded viable escape routes.

Robin sensed his friend's trepidation. "Woah, easy, easy. We're not your enemies, nor are we friends of Valm."

Virion's brows shot up, but he immediately became suspicious. "Pray tell, how is it that you know of Virion, then? I took great pains to elude my pursuers. There should be none on this continent aware of my presence."

Robin scratched his chin. "Hrmm. Well, I don't really want to answer that. But I'm well aware you're a man of reasoning, so let me posit this: If I was a Valmese agent, would I not dispose of you immediately? Your existence only threatens to serve as an impediment for an invasion."

The duke pondered. "...That is a rational assumption. I will not pretend that you could not do it."

"Good, good. So let's cut to the chase then. We'll definitely help you with the Valm crisis when the moment comes. But the domestic affairs of this continent are going to necessitate our attention before we can focus on Walhart. War is on the horizon."

Virion grimaced. "Yes, so I've gathered."

"Well then, as I'm sure you've already deduced, the Conqueror stepping foot on our shores while we're in the midst of quarreling with ourselves would be catastrophic. So for now, we need to focus on ensuring that Ylisse and Regna Ferox triumph over Plegia."

"I can attest to the necessity of that," Lucina added.

Virion seemed distraught. "You would ask that I ignore the plight of my countrymen?"

"They'll endure. Regrettably, they don't have an alternative," Robin replied. "But you can be certain that someday they'll be free again."

"How can you be so sure, though? If Walhart has time to solidify his armies, then there'll be no stopping him! You can't imagine the expanse of his host!"

"Over a million men, right?"

Virion stared, dumbfounded. Robin had listed that imposing figure as if it were merely an interesting factoid.

"There's not much point in trying to keep Walhart from unifying his forces if we haven't done the same yet. And he has to fragment them in order to mount an expedition across the Long Sea. We'll repel the initial invasion, then take the fight to him."

"Repel the invasion?! The Fourth Division alone would be enough to take Ferox by itself!"

Robin grinned darkly. "And what if I told you I knew of a way to annihilate Admiral Ignatius's navy before they ever make landfall?"

Virion and Lucina both became alert at this. "What?" the duke exclaimed. "But surely that is impossible! Valm's navy has no equal!"

"Then it shall remain the greatest unto its destruction," Robin smirked. His face suddenly twinged, and he could smell oil and smoke. A wave of nausea overtook him as he recalled the screams of burning men. He staggered, bracing himself against the wall suddenly.

"Robin?!" Lucina asked, alarmed.

He shook his head. "Sorry to worry you. I'm fine." He cleared his throat. "That was wrong of me. I shouldn't have made light of that. But I assure you, my plan will work. With no navy to speak of, the Valmese army will be landlocked, allowing us the luxury of choosing our point of arrival. And what's more, I think I have an inkling of how to make Yen'fay defect."

Virion looked at him in confusion. "But Yen'fay is a traitor in the first place. He sold his soul and his country in his search for glory."

"His situation isn't as straightforward as you think. Let's just say that the Valmese are holding something over him. I just have to figure out how to get him out from under that weight."

The nobleman folded his arms. "It seems you've given this all quite some thought. I'm ashamed; I fear I have not been diligent enough. I have no machinations to match yours."

Robin smiled. "Well, you're still better at chess than I am. Only person who ever has been."

Virion's expression brightened. "Oh! You play? Well, then I will have to ask for a game at some other time." He blinked. "...Ah, how contemptible I am. My subjects suffer, yet here I am thinking about petty amusement."

Robin frowned, but Virion's moment of self-deprecation passed almost immediately.

"Well then, my friend, with that grandiose showing you put on earlier today, and the exemplary plan of action you have outlined, I am willing to trust you with my cause. What would you ask of me?"

Robin scratched his head. "I would say... Just keep on with the Shepherds, and act at your own discretion. You're quite capable in your own right; I know I can trust you to have sound judgment."

Virion inclined his head. "Very well. I am deeply grateful, Robin, and to you as well... Sir Marth, was it? I look forward to the happy day when I can invite you to share drinks with me in my palace courtyard." He straightened his back. "Now then, I must beg your leave. Virion has many affairs he must spare his attention to."

Robin tilted his head. "If you're talking about that one Feroxian barmaid with the wrist tattoo, let me just warn you right now that that's not going to go well. _At all._ "

The archer laughed with mock embarrassment. "I assure you, I am acting with the intention of fostering my information network." He stroked his chin. "But if I could foster something in her heart at the same time..."

Robin shrugged. "Well, I mean, that's your own personal mistake, so I won't get involved. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

Virion bowed with a flourish, then turned to take his leave.

Robin suddenly recalled Virion throwing himself into Draco's line of fire in order to shield Cherche. The tactician felt compelled by a need to convey a strong sentiment to his friend.

"Virion, wait!"

The duke turned, raising an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Virion, you... You aren't a coward."

The nobleman was taken aback both by the abrupt nature of this declaration, and by the determination in Robin's expression. "... I see. Well, Virion was already well aware of this fact, but I appreciate your having taken notice of it." With that he walked off, soon disappearing from view.

Lucina looked up at Robin's face, which bore an uneasy expression. "What was that about?"

Robin grimaced. "...Nothing. ...C'mon, let's go find Chrom."

* * *

The Shepherds had gathered in the arena's lobby, split into pockets of conversation.

"Reflet, you were _sooooo_ cool!" Lissa gushed.

The tactician sheepishly rubbed the back of her head. "It was nothing, really. I just got lucky."

Vaike lightly shook Lissa by the shoulder. "H-Hey, hey! What about Teach? Wasn't I pretty cool too? I totally Vaiked that knight guy!"

Lissa nearly burst out laughing. ""Vaiked"? You _Vaiked_ that guy? Did you seriously just try to turn your name into a verb?!"

Vaike flushed. "S-So what if I did?! The Vaike is a pioneer in the field of lingerie!"

Lissa doubled over, clutching her sides as she laughed hysterically. Reflet couldn't help but giggle as well.

Vaike looked about in befuddlement. "What? What's so funny?"

Stahl sighed and clapped him on the back. "Just chalk this one up as a loss and move on, big guy."

"Do not coddle him, Stahl," Miriel chided. "Vaike, your application of your most limited vocabulary was incongruous with your intended sentiment."

"...Wha?"

"The word you sought can be inferred to be "linguistics", an irony in and of itself. However, "lingerie", the word you erroneously applied, refers to specialized undergarments worn by women for the purpose of arousing their sexual partners."

Vaike digested this information for a moment, then put his hands to his head and screamed.

"Hey now Miriel, don't you think that was a bit uncalled for?" Stahl asked. "It's not Vaike's fault he's a bit on the... _slow_ side. He probably never would've figured that out if you hadn't told him."

"I find the phrase "ignorance is bliss" to be utterly contemptible," she replied. "A lack of knowledge is hardly an excuse not to seek it out, even for outliers such as Vaike."

"Haha, well, The Vaike _is_ pretty out there," Vaike grinned, mortification already overcome.

"Vaike's... _uniqueness_ aside, something has caught my attention about _you_ , Stahl."

"M-Me?" he stammered, cheeks flushing.

"Yes. During the tournament, you finished your battle at the same time as Sully did hers. Together, you were both the fourth and fifth victors. The number of Shepherds who finished their matches before you and the number of those who finished afterward were equal. This only drew my attention because it occurred to me that this pattern has been consistent in footraces, weight-lifting, and sparring. And in a quick poll of some one hundred audience members, your popularity was middling. In other words, you appear decidedly average at all things, a characteristic so abnormal as to be paradoxical."

"H-How did you poll that many people so quickly?"

Miriel's glasses sheened. "I have my methods. Which you will soon learn firsthand, as I intend to commit a battery of experiments upon you."

"I really don't care for the way you phrased that just now."

Miriel suddenly craned her neck. "Oh. Another potential research subject of note."

Stahl glanced over his shoulder to see Robin and Marth walking toward Chrom. "Uh, should we be stopping them?"

"They're fine," Lissa reassured. "Robin's a friend. Right, Reflet?"

"Um... Yeah," she replied.

"No worries," Vaike added. "Chrom can handle himself. Teach knows that better than anyone. And if they do cause trouble, then the Vaike can totally Vaike them."

"Statistically impossible," Miriel rebutted. "Preliminary analysis of your combat specifications indicates conclusively that Robin is capable of terminating you from where the both of you currently stand."

"Huh?"

Lissa snickered. "He would totally kick your butt, Vaike."

* * *

"Ah, Robin!" Chrom exclaimed in greeting as the tactician approached, Marth trailing close behind. "I hope you're not upset. We might have thrown your strategies for a bit of a loop," he grinned.

Robin put his hands behind his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Everything went according to plan."

Chrom's face scrunched in confusion. "What are you talking about? We won, so Basilio los-" He abruptly trailed off, gaping for a moment. "Wait a minute...! You son of a bitch! You wanted Flavia to win all along, didn't you?! You _lied_ to me!"

Robin cleaned his ear with his finger absently. "Now now, let's not get upset over who set up whom. Things worked out, didn't they? Ylisse has its alliance now."

"Why couldn't you have just told me from the start?!"

"Because I needed you all to think you had something real at stake. You wouldn't be able to push past your limits if you had some complacent notion that the outcome had already been determined," Robin explained. His eyes gleamed. "Tell me, Chrom. Do you feel stronger? Do you feel that you've taken a meaningful step forward?"

Chrom hesitated. "...Well, yes, I suppose..."

Robin bowed his head. "Then I would ask your forgiveness, but I suspect I don't need it."

"...Just don't make a habit of this, alright?"

Robin gave a genuine smile. "I'll try."

Chrom put his hands on his hips. "So, what's up? I get the feeling you're not here just to chat."

Robin sighed. "That would be nice, wouldn't it? Who knows, maybe I can convince Flavia to invite us to the celebration. But we can't linger too long. There's a lot of ground to covered in a limited amount of time, which brings me to my point: I'm afraid I need to ask a few favors of you."

Chrom shrugged. "Fire away."

"Well, firstly, Marth and I will be breaking away from the group again for a little while. We have some comrades in Ferox we need to locate, and a few villages to protect from Risen."

Chrom scratched his chin. "Hmm. I suppose we owe the Feroxians. We could lend you our aid there."

Robin shook his head. "Not necessary. They're small-fry Risen, all crap I can handle without any fuss. Besides, you're needed back in Ylisse. You were probably already planning on suppressing Risen attacks, but I want to ask you to do a little recruiting while you're at it."

The prince raised an eyebrow. "Recruiting?"

"Right. First we need you to go to the mirage villages. You'll be looking for a man named Laurent. Fairly tall, blonde-"

Lucina elbowed him.

"- _olive_ hair, wears glasses and a funny hat like Miriel's."

"...Like Miriel's?"

Robin glanced away. "...Mage thing, I guess. Anyway, I drew this up for you," he noted, pulling a sheet of parchment out of his pocket. "This explains all of the perils of the Shifting Dunes, the correct order of navigating the villages, and the location of the Goddess Staff."

Chrom's eyes shot wide. " _The Goddess Staff?!_ "

"Oh, so you'd heard of it before. Yeah, it'll look like a rusted piece of garbage, and no one we know can use it yet, but you might as well grab it so we don't have to bother with a return trip. Anyway, when you find Laurent, tell him that you were sent by Marth. That'll probably be all he needs to hear. Oh, and this shouldn't be an issue, but steer clear of any bandits you see. They're well armed and you're not at a collective level where you can handle them yet. Don't worry about the civilians; they know how to make their villages disappear when necessary."

Chrom skimmed the map and accompanying notes. "Alright..."

"And after that, I need you to dip down to the Farfort. A young man named Donnel lives there, and he has the potential to be one of the greatest Shepherds. He'll need your help repelling a bandit raid on his hometown."

Chrom nodded. "We'll see what we can do."

Robin grinned. "Great, thank you. After that you've got free reign. But whatever you decide to do, you _absolutely_ must be back in Ylisstol three months from now, before the-" He hesitated, then glanced to Lucina. "New Moon?"

"New Moon," she nodded.

"What he said. We might meet up with you again before then, but if not, you can be certain that's where we'll be at that time."

"For what reason?"

Robin grimaced. "You remember that thing where I have to not tell you certain things you want to know?"

Chrom growled. "Yeah, alright, I get it."

"Sorry, buddy."

Chrom shrugged. "Well, you haven't led us astray so far. You could have really made things a mess for us if you had felt like it. I trust you. We'll do as you ask." He looked toward Lucina. "Marth, I hope we can cross blades under more friendly circumstances next time."

"Y-Yes..." she replied.

Robin smiled. "Thanks for your help, Chrom. Now, as much as it pains me to pass up on Feroxian spirits, I think we had best take our leave before Basilio finds us."

"Yes, that would have been a solid plan," a deep voice said from behind him.

"Ah shit."

Robin turned around. "Khan Basilio! What a surprise, meeting you here in the arena you own!"

"Not anymore I don't." Basilio leaned in, eye narrowed. "Explain," he demanded simply.

An idea flashed through Robin's mind, and he immediately acted upon it. "Ahaha! You got me, sir! I was feeling, uhm, charitable, so I decided to go a little bit easy on my opponent. I mean, how else could I possibly have lost?" he laughed, straining his face in a way that he hoped would be as unconvincing as possible.

Basilio inspected him a moment, then snorted. "Alright, I get it. She beat you for real and you're embarrassed about it." His expression darkened. "I mean, _it's not like you would be stupid enough to say something like that truthfully._ "

Robin had forgotten how intimidating Basilio could be. He mentally underlined the Khan's name on his shortlist of " _People Who Can Conceivably Kill Me_ ". "O-Of course sir. Sorry, sir," he replied with faux nervousness.

The khan snorted. "Whatever. I'll let it slide if you win me back the title next time."

Robin glanced at the Shepherds. "I don't mind, but by then Flavia might have a deeper pool of talent to select from."

"Men don't make excuses, boy," Basilio snapped. He turned toward Chrom. "Now then, I have a present for you, prince. You put on a pretty nice show. Unfortunately, your gift's being a bit of a bitch right now, so we'll have to save the introductions for later."

Chrom raised an eyebrow. "Um... Thank you?"

"Don't mention it. Marth kicked Lon'qu's ass, and you kicked Marth's ass-"

"I'm standing right here..." Lucina muttered.

"-So you basically kicked Lon'qu's ass, and that's enough for me to lend him out to you."

Chrom tilted his head. "This Lon'qu is one of your champions, I take it?"

Basilio nodded. "A damn good one, too, the best we'd had in ages before you lot turned up. Speaking of which-" He jerked his head towards Reflet. "While we're on the topic of gifts, you should probably get the girl something nice. You owe a large part of this victory to her."

Chrom rubbed his chin. "Yeah, you're probably right." He cupped his hands over his mouth. "Hey, Reflet!" he called. "You remember that set of Holy War biographies you wanted? I'll get them for you!"

The tactician's expression brightened, and she rushed over to the prince, flinging herself onto him in a tight hug. "Oh my gods Chrom, you're the best!"

Under normal circumstances, Lucina would have been capable of maintaining her composure in the face of this display. However, having just experienced a major emotional breakthrough in regards to her father, her self-control understandably slipped a small amount.

" _Get your hands off him, you, you..._ " She jabbed a finger at Reflet. " _Godsdamn harpy!_ " she shouted furiously.

Silence fell over the arena floor, all eyes fixated on the masked figure.

Robin was nothing if not resourceful. He took a great deal of pride in his ability to think on his feet and work his way out of tight situations.

But in this instance, he panicked.

"Hahahaha! Well, would you look at the time!" he shouted as he grabbed Lucina by the wrist. "It's about half past let's-get-the-hell-out-of-here-o'clock! Bye everyone, see you around!" he yelled as he dragged an unresistant Lucina out of the room.

"...What the hell was that about?" Reflet wondered as she awkwardly pulled away from Chrom.

"It was me sure knowing how to pick my champs," Basilio grimaced.

* * *

Robin led Lucina in silence, the pair taking staircase after staircase until they reached a balcony where he was sure they would remained undisturbed. He turned and faced her, arms crossed. She simply looked away.

"Gods above, Lucina! What the hell was _that_ all about?! What's the point of secrecy if you're going to pull shit like this?!"

She flushed, clearly embarrassed by her lapse in judgment. "It won't happen again."

Robin sighed in exasperation. "Are you sure? There's nothing wrong with wanting your parents to stay together, nor is there anything wrong with not wanting to interfere with their lives, but you can't halfass this shit!"

"W-Well, maybe I _should_ interfere!" she retorted indignantly. "I know for certain that my parents made each other happy! I have no such assurances that Reflet will provide my father with the quality of life he deserves! And for all I know, she could be the trai-"

Lucina abruptly stopped short, creating a palpable silence. Robin tensed up, suddenly realizing the inevitable line of inquiry Lucina was about to take.

"...Robin," she said without turning her head to look at him. "You know who murdered my father, don't you?"

There was no doubt in her voice. Robin grimaced, trying to think of a phrasing that wasn't an overt lie. "...I can't say for certain."

"How is that so? You already knew of the plot against Father's life. You must have encountered the traitor, and surely you of all people could have deduced their identity. So why is it that you've never mentioned whom they are? Why avoid-" She suddenly went silent, and tension permeated the air. She turned to regard Robin coldly. "...I see. If you were to know without doubt the identity of the killer in your world, but in their place was a different person entirely in this one... You would be able to claim that you "can't say for certain", wouldn't you?"

Robin said nothing. He knew where this was going.

"...Now I understand the truth of why the other me tried to kill you." Lucina finally faced him fully, eyes burning fiercely as she removed her mask.

Robin didn't meet her gaze, staring doggedly at a wall. _Damn it all. Things were going well, too..._

Lucina's next words were almost verbatim what he expected them to be.

"...Robin, it was you, wasn't it? You're the one who murdered my father, aren't you?"


	10. Two Falchions II

Robin stared out into the distance, deliberating on how best to handle this disastrous turn of events. He weighed his words carefully; he could not afford any mistakes. "...There was a version of me who killed Chrom, yes. The same me who would go on to become Grima in the other Lucina's timeline."

Lucina couldn't breathe. She had been hoping that Robin would somehow refute her accusation, that she had leapt to hasty conclusions and that this had all been a horrible misunderstanding.

Robin turned to face her, eyes blazing fiercely. "But not me. I, the Robin who stands before you here and now, did not kill Chrom. I refused that destiny, and I overcame that fate!"

"...How pretty your words are," she replied quietly. "Have you practiced them long, actor?"

Robin stepped backward involuntarily. "Wha-? Lucina, I'm telling the truth!

Lucina smiled forlornly, ignoring his protests. "I'll admit, you really did have me fooled." Her expression hardened. "But now I see you for what you are, Grimleal."

Robin gritted his teeth. "Listen to me, dammit! Chrom was my best friend! My brother! I would never betray him!"

Her lips curled. "Have you lost track of your own deceptions? You just now acknowledged the guilt of the past Robin."

Robin swept his arm wide. "He was possessed by Validar! He didn't have a choice!"

"Do you take me for an idiot? Validar was struck down by my father at the Dragon's Table. And no curse, no matter how powerful, would allow a man to steal the body of another!"

"...Have you ever heard of a blood curse?"

"A blood curse?" Lucina's eyes widened. "But that would mean..."

Robin nodded. "Yes. Validar was my father. He was able to control me by way of the blood of Grima flowing through my veins." He crossed his arms. "Now that I'm no longer the Heart, that's no longer a concern. And I use the past tense when referring to Validar-" He held up his right hand. "-Because I put an end to him myself."

"Preposterous!" Lucina snapped. "Who would believe such a story?!"

"Are you really so surprised? I told you, I was _bred_ to be the Heart of Grima. Whose work do you think that was?" Robin asked bitterly.

"You expect me to accept that claim still?" Lucina glowered. "No, you are no Heart. You are a mere servant with delusions of grandeur."

Robin retreated internally for a moment. _Shit, this is bad. Think, dammit! There has to be a way to convince her!_

"...A servant, you say? Tell me, then: In what manner have I acted in Grima's stead?"

Lucina's hand drifted down to Falchion's hilt. "My ignorance of your designs does not negate their existence."

Robin growled, now becoming irritated. " _What_ designs?! How the hell does anything I've done make sense if I'm loyal to Grima?!"

"You could be but using us to further your ambitions."

"Using you?! What would I need to _use_ you for?! I could damn well revive the Fell Dragon by _myself_ if I wanted to! I could have killed Chrom the instant I found him! I could crush Ylisse in a fortnight with access to Plegia's army! I know the locations of the Fire Emblem and the Gemstones! _What the godsdamn hell would I need to put on such a pointless charade for?!_ "

For the first time since the confrontation had begun, Lucina's hostility faltered. There was sense to Robin's words, and his anger at her accusations seemed authentic.

But the moment passed, and her brow furrowed. "What of your conversation with Sir Virion? Walhart is an enemy of Grima, and he holds one of the Gemstones, does he not? Perhaps you need outside aid in order to overcome the Conqueror."

Robin fell silent momentarily. "...Maybe so. But even if I would need Chrom for that, I wouldn't need _you_."

Lucina's eyes widened, and her fingers curled around Falchion's hilt.

Robin rolled his eyes. "Settle down! I'm not threatening you, I'm trying to make a point! If I'm some traitor as you say, then why would I ever leave you alive?! I would have killed you the instant I found you! You are one of the greatest obstacles in the way of the revival of Grima!"

The princess swallowed dryly as she recalled how effortlessly Robin had bested her in their first duel.

"If I am what you claim, I would have killed you. I would have found Laurent and killed him too, and then Kjelle as well," Robin continued, pacing. "Hell, I probably would have killed Lon'qu just to cover my bases in regards to the tournament!" He wheeled around, glaring at her. "But I didn't, and I won't. That's not who I am, regardless of whatever I was meant to be."

He could see in her eyes that her opposition was weakening. With just one more push, he could dissolve this situation.

Robin placed his hand over his heart. "Lucina, I'm your _friend_. I'm begging you, believe in me!" he pleaded.

Lucina stared at him, searching for proof that the Robin she had known had not been a mere illusion. She thought back to when he had comforted her. "...Your eyes are the same as they were that night," she said quietly. "We've only known each other a short time, but I thought you a good friend, kind and reliable. Even now I wish that to be so."

Robin grimaced. He could feel the reluctance in her voice; he knew this hadn't been resolved.

"It unnerves me how much I had come to trust in your guidance," she admitted. "Fearing my own inadequacy, I was willing to foist the burden of my mission onto the shoulders of another." She tightened her fist. "It was weakness. The same weakness that might allow me to succumb to the sweet lies of a silver tongue."

Robin could feel panic welling in his chest. "I just want to help you! You're trying to take all the world's problems on by yourself! It was just like this with her! She was always getting hurt because she tried to do everything alone!" He took a step closer. "You don't have to be a slave to that wretched self-sacrificing future you've chosen for yourself! You don't have to close yourself off from others! You don't have to close yourself off from _me_!" Robin shouted, desperation creeping into his voice.

Lucina swept her gaze over him, trying to take in every detail, searching for even the slightest tell of deceit. "...You cannot imagine how much I wish to believe that your concern is genuine. I..."

No matter were she looked, her eyes kept returning to his. Had the Robin she had known really been a fake? When he had smiled and laughed, had it all been calculated? When he had trained her, had the pride he'd shown in her steady improvement been forced? When they had lain beneath the stars in the wilderness, had he fabricated the names of the constellations as he pointed them out to her? And when he had gently placed his arm around her as she wept, had that been mere manipulation?

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't break their connecting gazes. Could even the most skilled of actors forge eyes so piercingly sad as those? Could any deceiver yield such vulnerable fear?

"...I cannot bring myself to believe that the you who lent me his shoulder was but an act," she admitted. "I cannot accept that our travels together meant nothing."

Robin wanted to smile at these words, but his mouth would not move. He wanted to feel relief at this admission, but something in her bearing invited trepidation from him.

"That makes this all the more painful," she said sadly. "For in a moment, if we were not enemies before, then we surely shall be."

Robin's eyes shot wide. "What?!"

"I can accept _your_ innocence. However..."

A chill ran down Robin's spine. "Hey, you can't be suggesting..."

Lucina ignored him, abruptly turning toward the door. "Even if _you_ are free of the blood curse..."

Robin vanished in the blur of _Pass_ and reappeared between Lucina and the exit, arms spread wide. "Woah woah woah, stop right there! You can't be going to do what I think you are!"

Lucina seemed completely unsurprised by Robin's sudden movement. "This curse reduces Reflet to nothing more than an implement for Validar to abuse. If he would use a puppet to harm my father, then I have no choice but to sever the strings. A decision I know you will not accept."

"Of course not! How could I just stand by and let you kill her?!"

A pained expression flickered across Lucina's face. "It was obvious that would be your response."

"You don't have to do this! I can resolve all of this by just killing Validar!"

"And thus hasten Reflet's possession?" she shot back. "And even then, Grima holds the power to raise the dead!"

Robin grimaced. "Listen to me, this can't be the right way! If we just-"

He fell silent at the sound of a sword leaving its sheath. Robin stared numbly at Lucina as she held out Falchion, the twilight sky illuminating her. His breath refused to part from his body. This scene was mockingly familiar, identical in too many ways: the gleam of Falchion in the setting sun, the soft cawing of crows in the distance, and that same heartbreaking expression she held.

"Th-This... You've gotta be kidding me..." he whispered. "This has gotta be some kind of sick joke!" he snarled.

"Stand aside," she commanded quietly.

"Or what?! Or you'll try to kill me, just like she did?!" Robin shouted, face like a wounded animal's. "Will you murder your friend, just like she tried to?!"

Lucina swallowed, trying to steel herself. "Robin, I truly do not wish to do this. Please, just let me pass so that-"

"So that _what_?!" Robin demanded, sweeping his arm wide. "So that you can rob an innocent of her life?!"

Lucina grimaced. "This is more important than her! More important than you, or me! I will sacrifice whatever it takes to secure this world's future! Even an innocent! Even my soul!" She closed her eyes, silent for a moment. When she reopened them, they were hard and cold as ice. "...Even you," she murmured.

Robin curled his fingers into fists, his shoulders trembling. "...You both... Why the hell is it that you both always just get it into your heads that your way is the only way?! Why can't you put your faith in others?! Where the hell is that hope she talked about?!"

"This isn't a matter of hope or faith!" Lucina snapped. "You haven't seen what I have! If you had, you wouldn't be able to allow the envoy of hell to slip through your fingers! You would take action!"

"You think I would just take the easy way out?!"

Lucina was taken aback. " _Easy_?! You... You believe this is _easy_ for me?! I've never killed anyone in my life, Robin! This could never be _easy_ for me!"

It was Robin's turn to be caught off-guard. "You've never...?" He hesitated, placing his finger on his chin as he looked into the sunset. "...Not even a Grimleal? Not even in your capacity as Exalt?"

She shook her head dourly. "Lives were so incredibly scarce, Robin. Even the execution of criminals seemed a waste. You can't imagine the value a single life holds to me."

"...If that's how things are... then that's how I'd like them to stay."

Lucina arched her eyebrows. "What?"

Robin glanced back at her. "...I'd like it if you were never required to take a life. I'd like to make it so that you don't have to."

Her mouth fell open in shock, but she almost immediately afterward gritted her teeth. "Which would rather conveniently protect Reflet."

Robin faced her fully. "As someone who has had to kill countless others—and believe me, I can count pretty high—that red-stained path is not one you should ever have to travel." He smiled. "Consider me the roadblock."

Lucina seemed legitimately startled by this declaration. "...It means a great deal to me that you wish so ardently to spare me from such a thing. But fate is not nearly as kind as you are." She tightened her grip around Falchion. "Better my hands dyed red than the very earth. Better my soul tainted by darkness than the skies above."

Robin's face contorted in frustration. "Don't you get it?! You're trying to commit the same crime you're accusing Reflet of!"

" _My_ crime will save the world, not end it!" she retorted.

Robin's hands went up to his temples. He looked as if he were ready to tear his own hair out. "How do you _know_ that?! How do you know that this saves Chrom?! I managed to subvert his fate, but Grima killed him all the same! And if the other Lucina had killed me, who could have stopped Grima after his resurrection?! _How can you be so self-assured that what you're doing is in any way right?!_ "

A deafening silence fell between them.

"...Maybe you are right," she admitted. "Maybe the sin I seek to commit is unnecessary, making it all the more unforgivable. ...But maybe you are wrong. Maybe this is the only chance to steer the course of this world's story away from its premature ending. I cannot gamble the the future on feelings, Robin. Maybe I am wrong, but there is too much at stake if I am right." She swallowed dryly. "...Words will not sway either of us at this point. All that's left now is our swords. Draw, Robin."

Robin looked as if he was struggling not to lash out and punch a wall. "...I refuse."

"This isn't a game, Robin!" Lucina shouted desperately. "I will not allow anyone to stand in my way! If you would impede me, then I must cut you down!"

"...So if I am to stop you, I have to kill you? Is that what you're saying?"

"I will not resent you," she smiled ruefully. "You act to protect your family, no different from me."

"You know this is foolishness. You know that you can't beat me in a fair fight. This is meaningless posturing. I can defeat you without killing you."

"Then I will try again and again. I am no match for you now, but that will change. Someday, my prowess will be equal to your own! If the other Lucina could rival you, then so can I!"

"Are you trying to tell me to kill you now, before you become a threat?!"

"...If you wish to save Reflet, then that is your only choice."

Robin stared at her incredulously. " _What the hell is your problem?!_ " he yelled. "You say you have to kill Reflet at all costs, and then you turn around and try to get me to kill you?! What is _wrong_ with you?!"

"Robin, if you do not stop me, then I will have to kill both you and Reflet! Draw your sword, _please_!" she screamed.

He stepped backward, stunned. Something in her tone, her expression, had echoed within him. For a brief moment, his mind drifted toward the past.

 _"Draw, craven!" she had shouted in that same voice, with that same face._

 _With that same pleading look in her eyes._

Something clicked, and what had eluded Robin for many an agonizing night finally became clear.

"You... You didn't want to kill me," he murmured distantly to a dead woman, his eyes unfocused.

Bound by her duty but unable to follow through with what that entailed, the other Lucina had sought the only avenue of escape she thought available to her.

 _She wanted me to kill her so that she wouldn't have to bear the guilt of murdering me. She would have rather_ died _than kill me._

Lucina blinked. "What?"

Robin's eyes darted back to her. "And you... You don't want this either! This is your way out!"

"What are you saying?"

"Well you can just forget about it!" Robin snapped, ignoring her question. "There's no way in hell I could ever kill you! Get as strong as you like! I'll just have to get even stronger than that!" he shouted, throwing his arms out. "Go as far as you can, because I'll always be three steps ahead! No matter how many attempts you make at forcing a fatality, I'll stop you every time!"

Lucina's expression was a mixture of anguish and bafflement. "Why are you going to such lengths?! Why grant me such leniency?! _I am going to murder your family_! Why are you so steadfastly refusing to kill me?!"

" _Because_ y _ou're the one I want to save the most, godsdammit!_ " he shouted on impulse.

Stillness overtook the balcony as they both stared at each other, faces blank. Robin's cheeks slowly flushed red as he realized what he had just said. He worked his mouth wordlessly as he processed what had just escaped it.

"...What... What do you mean?" Lucina asked, equally shocked.

Robin winced. "I just..." He could see her sprawled lifelessly on Grima's back. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, then returned his gaze to the still-living Lucina. "What happened to her, the other you... It wasn't right. She didn't deserve the end she was given, not after all she had suffered and all she had sacrificed. So I'll be damned if I let the same happen to you. I'll do whatever it takes to save you!"

Lucina was struck utterly speechless. She wanted to say something about how her own life was insignificant, or how this didn't change the necessity of Reflet's death. But no words would come.

"...And that includes," Robin continued, stepping forward. "...Saving you from yourself. Killing Reflet would destroy you. You would never be the same." They were now separated only by the length of Falchion.

Lucina became alert as she registered Robin's proximity to her regalia. She realized that he had brought himself so close that even he couldn't avoid a lethal blow were she to suddenly attack. "Robin, what are you-?! St-Stand back! Come any closer and I'll strike you down!"

He smiled calmly, staring at the brand in her eye. "No you won't. I know you. You're no murderer." He abruptly stepped forward, pushing his chest onto Falchion's tip.

" _No!_ " she shouted in horror. For a microsecond that seemed to last a hellacious eternity, Lucina was certain that Robin had just committed suicide.

But then she blinked in confusion, staring at where her weapon's tip was buried in Robin's coat. In spite of him having placed enough pressure to have his heart punctured, Robin's chest remained unpierced. Miraculously, he was unharmed.

"I don't... I don't understand!" she breathed.

Robin gave an insolent grin. "Just as Falchion bears its edge for the master it deems worthy, it can also dull it. In your heart of hearts, you didn't want to cut me, and so, I was not cut."

She gasped inaudibly, eyes racing over her sword.

"You're not her," he said gently. "You don't have to make the same mistakes that she did."

There was so much that Lucina wanted to express, so much that she currently felt, but her lips were locks on her thoughts. Falchion slid limpy down Robin's chest, drawing nothing more than a crease in his coat.

Her voice came out haltingly. "...Robin, I..." She turned her gaze downward. "...I would be alone. I need time to..." She trailed off. "...I just need time."

His expression became concerned. "But-"

"I swear to you, on my father's life, I will make no attempt at killing Reflet this night. So please..."

Robin was about to protest, but he stopped short. He bit his lip and nodded. "...Alright. You know where to find me when you're ready."

She said nothing. Robin gave her one last worried look, then slowly turned and walked to the door. He exited the balcony, leaving Lucina standing in silent solitude.

* * *

Reflet dragged her finger around the rim of her cup, staring at the wine within.

"Shomethin' wrong?" Chrom asked. His hair was disheveled, and he swayed back and forth. Chrom was by no means a lightweight, but hours spent drinking Feroxian alcohol would inevitably affect anyone.

"It's that _Marth_ guy," she replied, her inflections fluctuating wildly. In contrast to Chrom, Reflet was the textbook definition of a lightweight, and had reached an equal level of intoxication with only a fraction of the amount the prince had imbibed. "Somethin's real _weird_ about him, ya know?!"

Chrom narrowed his eyes. " _Yeahhhhh..._ "

"Like, wha' was that _harpy_ thing about? And why's he gotta _Falcon_?!"

"Robin says he's from the future too. Which means... Which means..." Chrom blinked, then looked down at his cup. "Which means _I'm out of beer_."

Reflet slammed her fist on the table. " _Exactly_! And ya know, ya know what else really _bugs_ me about him?" She stared off into the distance. "He's too _blue_."

Chrom was struggling not to giggle. "But Reflet, Reflet...! ... _I'm_ blue!"

They stared at each other, then both burst out laughing.

* * *

Lucina lay in her bed for hours, her mind a tumult of thoughts and emotions. No matter how she tried to approach her circumstances, she could not find an answer she could abide. She could not ignore Reflet's threat, but her mind kept replaying her confrontation with Robin. The more she searched for a solution, the more entangled she became in her quandary. She considered it a mercy when sleep finally began to take her, and wearily surrendered herself to slumber.

* * *

 _She was four years old again, running through the hallways of Castle Ylisstol._

 _"Aunt Robin!" the young Lucina shouted cheerfully, rushing up to hug the knees of her father's tactician._

 _The woman who would be called Reflet in another life smiled down at her. "Well hello, dear sweet Lucina. Have you been a well-behaved princess while I was away?"_

 _"Yep!" Lucina nodded exuberantly._

 _The female Robin raised an eyebrow. ""Yep"?"_

 _Lucina's eyes widened and her mouth fell open slightly. "I-I mean, "Yes, ma'am"!"_

 _The tactician grinned. "Much better. A princess should maintain proper diction, after all. Now, then, Lucina, I've brought you a present."_

 _"You have?!"_

 _"Yes, that's right. Close your eyes and hold out your hands."_

 _Lucina did as she was instructed, and felt something large, round, and cold placed in her palms._

 _"Go ahead, dear. Take a look at your gift," the white-haired woman practically laughed._

 _Lucina cautiously cracked an eye open._

 _Her father's head stared back at her, congealed blood staining his lips._

 _Lucina shrieked and dropped the severed head, toppling backwards as she began to hyperventilate. "F-F-FATHER?!"_

 _The woman in front of her began to laugh. But that woman was not her Aunt Robin. Her voice was too deep, her teeth were too sharp, and her eyes were too red._

 _"Wh-What did you do to my daddy?!" Lucina screamed._

 _Grima—for this person could have been no other—cackled._

 _"Your father is dead, tiny one."_

* * *

Lucina bolted upright in bed, chest heaving as she struggled to keep herself from screaming. It took her some moments to collect herself, arms wrapped around her knees as she shuddered in a cold sweat.

"...A terrible dream," she murmured.

A terrible dream, but an echo of reality. She swallowed dryly. Her nightmare could not become the world's.

Robin's face flickered through her mind, and she grimaced. She could not spare Reflet, and thus could no longer stay close to Robin, lest she lose her resolve.

She sprang out of bed.

* * *

It was the early hours of the morning when Lucina slipped through the hallways of Arena Ferox's bottom floor. She moved quickly and stealthily, not wishing to draw any attention from the guard patrols. She paused a moment to peek around a corner, checking for Feroxian presence.

"Not even going to say goodbye?" a voice asked.

Lucina jumped in shock, and whirled around to find a familiar face. "R-Robin?! What are you doing here?!"

He smiled knowingly. "C'mon, even if I had never met the other you, I could have seen this coming from a mile away."

Lucina opened her mouth, then closed it and stared at the ground in shame. "...Please forgive me, Robin. I cannot remain. I cannot bring myself to ignore Reflet, but nor do I wish to fight you. For now, this is the best I can do."

Robin sighed. "I figured... Old habits die hard, I guess..." He shrugged, then reached into his coat. He withdrew a bundle of parchment, then handed it to her. "Here. You'll want this."

Lucina took the papers, and her eyes went wide as she scanned them in the flickering torchlight. Hand-drawn portraits of familiar faces, detailed columns of information, and carefully scaled maps were laid out in the ink. "This... This is...!"

"Everything I know about where to find your friends."

She looked at him incredulously. "B-But why would you give me this?! My comrades will side with me! They'll agree that something must be done about Reflet!"

"Obviously."

"Then why?! I am to be your enemy! Why help me in such a way?!"

Robin scratched the back of his head. "Well... Even if we _were_ to become enemies, that doesn't mean I have to stop being your friend, right?"

Lucina could only stare at him, her hands trembling.

"I don't know what you intend to do from this point forward, but at least hopefully you won't have to do it alone," he smiled tiredly. He force himself to grin. "And you can be sure that no matter what, I'll find a way to save you and Reflet both."

Lucina's mind was motionless for a moment, and then, all at once, she at last arrived at the answer to the question that had plagued her.

In quick motions, Lucina shredded the pages.

"Wha-?! Lucina, what the hell?!" Robin shouted in distress. "I spent half the night on that!"

She smiled at him, a tear trickling down past her mask. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I'll have any need for this. Those pages would have only been necessary were I to travel alone."

Robin blinked, then his eyes widened. "You mean-?!"

She nodded. "Robin, I would beg your forgiveness. I understand now how mistaken I was. I refuse to accept that any path that would require me to be your enemy could be the right course. If there is anyone who can find the road that leads to a future we can all share in, I am certain it is you. If you believe in Reflet, then I will do so as well. So please, forgive me for ever having doubted you."

"Lucina..." he murmured. He coughed, then rubbed the back of his head. "...Don't be so hard on yourself. This is kind of my fault, after all... If I had just been upfront about everything from the start, maybe none of this would have happened."

"...Maybe. But I am glad that you did not, for I fear that I would then have never trusted you in the first place, and that would have been a lamentable mistake."

"...Then can we put all of this behind us? Can we go on like how it was before yesterday?"

"I want that more than you can imagine. However, I require one condition." She suddenly leaned in and jabbed his chest repeatedly with her finger, each poke punctuating a word. " _No. More. Secrets._ "

Robin blinked, then beamed. "Alright. I promise, I'll tell you everything, starting right from the very day your father found me in that field."


	11. A Duel Disgraced

Kjelle blinked, then groggily pushed herself out of the snow. She looked about in a daze, taking in the surrounding mountains and pine trees. Her brow furrowed as she became cognizant of the biting cold that the howling wind dragged through her.

Ferox. It had had to be Ferox. The dragon woman had warned that the time travel would be "imprecise", but Kjelle hadn't taken that to mean "a crapshoot". She growled and pushed herself to her feet, now keenly aware of how ill-suited her metal plate armor was for her surroundings. She silently cursed Naga, Grima, and whatever other worthless incompetent gods happened to be involved in her current predicament.

Then she spotted a multitude of glowing red eyes. Risen shambled towards her through the nearby trees, causing her to immediately reassess the practicality of her attire.

"Ugh, you bitch!" she groaned. "You let them _follow_ us?!"

Ordinarily, Risen were not a problem. Kjelle had been killing Risen since she was fifteen years old. They always fought predictably, always went for the same exposed spots in the same exploitable sequences. A lone Risen was laughable, but a swarm was different. Kjelle knew better than to tackle a host like this carelessly. It had taken a Deadlord to kill her mother, but her father had fallen to a rabble. Even worthless values became imposing if you multiplied them enough.

An undead fighter lunged forward, swinging its axe at her neck. Kjelle grunted as she caught the attack on her shield, then skewered the monster with her lance. She quickly twisted, dragging the still-dying creature's body to take a lancer's thrust in her stead. She shoved on her weapon, pushing it out the back of the fighter's neck and into the lancer's forehead. Out of the corner of her eye she saw an archer draw its bowstring, sights trained on her exposed face. She flung her arm up, sucking air through her teeth as the arrow clanged off her armor, the impact jolting painfully through her bones. She yanked her lance out of the disintegrating defeated, then hurled it through the archer's chest. She reached out and snatched the lancer's weapon just as it fell from its vanishing grasp, her lip curling at the inferior quality.

A flash of light caused her to reflexively bring her shield up. Kjelle screamed as an electric shock coursed through her body. She staggered, then glowered at the mage that was already readying another bolt. She shrieked a fierce warcry and charged forward.

Kjelle hated Risen. They fought without honor, without craft, and without purpose. What was the point of putting her life on the line if her opponents didn't care about doing the same? Give her a Deadlord at least. Give her an adversary that could think, that could feel. Even a Grimleal would suffice.

Give her a worthy opponent, so that when death finally came for her she could meet it with a satisfied smile.

* * *

Reflet slumped forward on her horse, caught between nausea and a horrific headache. "Wh-Why did no one warn me about hangovers?!" she whined loudly.

"We thought you would be used to them!" a voice called from the back of the column.

"Piss off, Maribelle!" she replied weakly.

"You ok?" Chrom laughed from beside her.

"Of course not," she groaned. "And how are _you_ right as rain?! You drank like three times what I did!"

Chrom scratched his head. "Divine providence?"

"Ugh." She sat up in her saddle, swaying a bit. "Never again. Never subjecting myself to this again."

"Ah, come on! You seemed like you were having a blast last night!"

Reflet grimaced. "I can barely even _remember_ last night. I think I fell asleep under a table."

"You passed out after loudly declaring that spot "The Reflet Room"," Chrom corrected.

She cringed. "Ew. Never again," she repeated. She pondered a moment. "...Hey. You remember that talk we were having about Marth?"

Chrom quirked an eyebrow. "Vaguely?"

"Now that I can actually think semi-straight, there really is something fishy about that guy. Why did he get so mad at me?"

Chrom rubbed his chin. "Good question. When we fought he seemed to have some familiarity with me, but I don't know what might have spurred him to act like that."

"And you're certain there's only one Falchion, right?"

Chrom nodded. "Absolutely. It was forged from the fang of Naga. There's only ever been one."

""Ever"... " _Ever_ "..." Reflet murmured. "...Well, what if it _is_ the one Falchion?"

"You mean a future version?" Chrom asked.

Reflet blinked, surprised. "Uh, yeah, actually. I didn't think you'd piece that together so quickly."

Chrom seemed mildly put off. "I'm not a halfwit, Reflet."

She waved her hands apologetically. "Sorry, sorry! Anyway Chrom, did Robin ever mention anything about Marth being a time traveler as well?"

"Yeah, he did."

She became somber. "...And did he mention what happens to you?"

He frowned. "Well, sort of... He was a bit incoherent for the first few moments after I found him, but the implication was pretty clear. ...So in other words, Marth somehow inherited Falchion from me."

"That's the reasonable assumption, yeah..." Reflet agreed glumly.

Chrom rubbed his chin. "Yet I know nothing of Marth. For him to wield Falchion, he must be from the Exalt's bloodline, but I have no brothers or cousins."

Reflet rested her cheek on her hand. "Presumably."

Chrom grimaced. "Presumably. I hold no illusions about my father, but... I wanted to believe that at the very least, he would never betray my mother." He sighed. "Still, the conclusion seems clear: Marth is my illegitimate half-brother."

Reflet narrowed her eyes. "Perhaps..."

Something was off about this, Reflet was certain. She thought back to Chrom's duel. If Marth had indeed received Falchion from a deceased Chrom, then it was also conceivable that he had been trained in his style. However, Marth's fighting suggested something entirely contradictory to this notion: that he had been honing his technique for his entire life. Given the age gap reminiscent between Reflet's own with her twin brother's, Marth should have had two or three years at the absolute most to learn directly from Chrom; enough time to become comfortable with his techniques, but certainly not enough time to display a mastery, an ease with the blade as simple as breathing. Furthermore, the intensity of Marth's reaction to her display of affection for Chrom was puzzling; why would Chrom's half-brother become so violently offended by something as innocuous as a hug?

Chrom seemed satisfied with his conclusion, but Reflet felt an urge to keep digging. And she knew a good place to hit paydirt. There was one person besides Chrom who had directly fought with Marth.

She looked back toward the middle of the column, where the newest addition to their retinue, the swordsman Lon'qu, rode straight-backed.

* * *

Kjelle trudged through the snow, blood seeping through the separations in her plate mail. Every step brought with it a struggle not to collapse. Her vision was blurring, and the buffeting of windborn snow exacerbated this, reducing her surroundings to a muted, dull white.

It was a black joke, really. She had come to a world where heroes and villains of old awaited her challenge, and of all things it would be natural elements that killed her. Not the Grimleal elite or their Deadlord retainers. Not the Conqueror or his right hand. Not even the Risen she had just fought. A godsdamn blizzard. It was a slap in the face.

Her footing gave out, and she collapsed. She didn't even bother trying to get up; the futility of attempting to lift up her heavy armor in this state was painfully obvious. She sullenly laid in the snow, too resigned to struggle but too bitter to succumb. All she could do was to wait see who would be the victor between hypothermia and blood loss in the competition that would bring an end to her life.

Kjelle raised her head a tad, squinting. It was likely just her imagination, but she thought she could make out a vague shadow approaching. She scoffed; it seemed the dark horse of the sordid race, a straggler Risen, would take the prize. Or maybe death actually had a personification, and this was his grim specter. Kjelle sighed in annoyance. For such a busy man, Death was irritatingly unhurried.

The sound of boots crunching through snow met her ears, and she looked up. A well-built, middle-aged man stood before her with a bundle of logs strapped to his back. Kjelle blinked; the afterlife had odd choices in emissaries.

They surveyed each other in mutual surprise for a moment before the man wordlessly dropped his firewood. Kjelle's vision flickered as he stepped closer, and her eyelids drooped shut.

* * *

Robin prodded at the campfire with a stick, shifting the kindling so that the smoldering embers could spread their flames. He and Lucina had called an early night on account of their both having slept little and woken early before they left Arena Ferox. Robin had spent the majority of the day regaling Lucina with the stories of how he had met the Shepherds and her other self, how they had been dragged into the Plegian War, his failure to save her aunt, and how Chrom had clashed with the Mad King. He set down the stick and folded his hands.

"...And with that, Gangrel was slain, and Emmeryn was avenged," Robin concluded, eyes distant. He craned his neck toward the stars. "A ceasefire was declared, Plegia was forced to pay reparations, and Chrom was crowned Exalt of Ylisse. He married Sumia in a lovely ceremony—I was the best man, of course—and she gave birth to his daughter. Around this time all of the Shepherds started pairing off, so Libra had his hands full overseeing all of the weddings, excluding his own, which was conducted by the new hierophant." He scratched his nose. "Can't remember the guy's name off the top of my head; most of the prominent clergy were wiped out between Plegia invading the capital and the crusade to save Emmeryn. He was a decent man, but he wasn't particularly effectual and we rarely interacted, so he didn't leave much of an impression on me."

Lucina tilted her head. "Marinus was his name, I believe. Father Marinus."

Robin raised an eyebrow. "Did you know him?"

She shook her head. "No. He perished shortly after the Day of Grima, and he had no successor."

"Hmm. I suppose the church of Naga would take a bit of a hit with the Fell Dragon returning and all," Robin commented dryly.

"Furthermore, Cornelius's betrayal was far more impactful in my time than yours. A major battle was lost because of information he sold to the enemy, and the Wing Commander Phila and her entire squadron were wiped out as a result. Because of this, his name became synonymous with treason, and many lost faith in the institution he once represented."

"Damn. Was he really that bad? All I saw him manage to do was lead a bunch of Plegians to us right before Vasto had him gutted."

Lucina stretched her arms. "Well, you did say that Cornelius is the one who lets the assassins into the castle grounds."

Robin shrugged. "I mean, I'd say I'm somewhere around ninety-five percent certain there. He died like three minutes after we found out about him being a turncoat, so we never really had a chance to learn the extent of his treachery. It just fits, is all."

Lucina put her hand to her chin, pondering. "We should make haste to reveal his deceit as soon as we return to Ylisstol, then. But how do we impugn him without drawing suspicion and ire from our fellows?"

Robin scratched his neck. "...Ok, you're probably not going to like the sound of this, so I need you to promise me you won't make any objections before I'm finished explaining myself. Alright?"

"...Alright..." she hesitantly acquiesced.

Robin breathed in deeply. "...We don't. I _want_ the assassins to make it into the castle grounds."

Lucina stared at him, eyes wide. "...It is taking a great deal of self-restraint to not go back on my word right now."

Robin shook his hands. "I know, I know. Just hear me out. Firstly, they'll be predictable. We shouldn't have any problem handling them, so taking them out in the middle of the attempt prevents them from regrouping and trying again. Like, what if they go after Emmeryn in broad daylight while she's on her rounds and we're not around because their safer plan fell through?"

Lucina put her palm to her lips, mulling this over.

"Secondly, Gaius is in the mix," Robin continued. "He's a good friend and an incredible asset to the Shepherds; no one else has his skillset. The only reason we met him in the first place is because he defected in the middle of the incident. Who knows where we would find him next, if at all? And what if he gets killed in an unlucky fluke because he happened to be on the wrong side at the wrong time?"

"Noire would be distraught at the loss of her father..." Lucina murmured.

Robin snapped his fingers. "Oh, hey! Finally, another overlap between the marriages in our timelines!" He shook his head. "Sorry, not relevant to the topic at hand." He took a deep breath. "And lastly, and most importantly... As I mentioned earlier, Validar will be heading the assassination attempt."

Lucina sat upright, eyes fixated on him. "Wait... So you intend this to be a trap for your father?"

Robin winced. "I would really prefer it if you didn't refer to him as such. He threw away the right to be called that long ago."

She frowned. "I understand." She put her finger to her chin. "Then, if we could capture Validar..."

Robin blinked, then laughed. " _Capture_ him? No, Lucina, I'm going to _kill_ him."

Her eyebrows shot up. "What?! Robin, I know he's a monster, but you can't kill your own father!"

Robin seemed completely unphased by the prospect. "Why not? I told you, I've done it before."

Lucina grimaced. "That's... What I mean to say is, you shouldn't _have_ to."

He leaned back. _"..._ I appreciate the sentiment, I really do. But Validar's a fanatic. He'll never divulge information or allow himself to be used as a hostage, and he's too dangerous to risk keeping captive for an extended period. He needs to be put down, and we won't be given a better chance to take him out of the picture than this. Besides, I consider that bastard no more kin to me than the dirt beneath my boots."

"But won't Grima just revive him?" Lucina questioned. "Or worse, won't he immediately possess Reflet?"

Robin shook his head. "Doubtful. Validar didn't possess me the first time he died, which leads me to believe that that particular ability is dependent on a conduit. In other words, Validar probably isn't powerful enough to invoke the blood curse without Grima's help." He rubbed his chin. "There was a marked difference in his strength when Validar showed up a year later as king of Plegia. Also of note is the fact that he was at no point a Risen. Which means..." Robin steepled his fingers and leaned forward. "Grima will need Validar's body in order to revive him. In other words, if I annihilate his corpse completely, he shouldn't be able to return." His eyes were hard as steel now. "I won't make the same mistake as last time. I won't leave so much as a single hair of him intact. _This_ time, he's going to stay dead."

Lucina was fumbling, grasping for a way to express what felt so wrong about this conversation. "You're so vehement about saving Reflet; don't you at least want to _try_ to save your father?" she asked, uneasily aware that she was playing devil's advocate.

Robin stared at the fire, his expression jaded. "No. No I do not. This is different from Reflet's case. Completely different. Believe me, I _did_ try last time. I begged him not to use me like a weapon. I begged him to understand what Grima would inflict upon humanity. But he didn't care. I was never anything more than a tool for him, a means to the end of the world. Validar won't change. He _can't_ change." Sorrow flooded into his eyes. "And... Though I have no proof one way or the other... My instincts tell me that he killed my mother."

Lucina had a pained expression on her face. "How terrible..." She sighed. "Personally, I have no desire to spare Validar. I believe him to be the one person I could kill without the slightest bit of remorse. But when I imagine what it would be like if I had to think the same about my own father... It just seems so cruel to you. So unfair."

Robin's expression became somber. "...You were dealt an objectively shitty hand, Lucina, but at the very least, you were granted a father who loves you. Never forget that blessing, because not everyone is as fortunate in that regard."

He became silent, lost in his thoughts. Lucina still had questions regarding Emmeryn's safety, and how Reflet might react to learning of Validar's nature, but she bit them back. She knew that Robin had answers for those issues, or at the very least, was working diligently to arrive at them. She could wait to learn the solutions. But for now, her foremost desire was to draw Robin out of his melancholy. Perhaps it was an aftereffect of her guilt over their confrontation, but Lucina found that she greatly disliked seeing him in this state. She would have to rouse him from it.

Robin had spent the whole day talking, so perhaps now, she reasoned, he would prefer to listen instead. Seeking a subject to divert her friend with, she recalled the stories her comrades had shared around their own campfires. Her eyes lit up as a particular tale came to her. "Say, Robin, have you ever heard tell of Leif of Thracia?"

Robin raised his head, eyebrows quirked in mild surprise. "In passing, yes. I'm not particularly familiar with his story, though."

"It was a favorite of Owain's. He used to tell us about how Leif fought to reclaim his homeland and did battle with the evil Raydrik, and then against his reincarnation, the fiendish Deadlord Eins."

Robin narrowed his eyes. " _Eins_?" He frowned, then began silently counting on his fingers. "...Hold on, there's no Deadlord named Eins. I would definitely remember fighting a Deadlord named Eins."

Lucina smiled, pleased that she had drawn in his attention. "In some traditions, Raydrik is revived as Mus. But other accounts contend that he was so vile that he warped the very seats of the Deadlords, creating a new chair at their table that was his and his alone."

Robin grinned, resting his cheek on his knuckles. "Oh? Must have been a pretty nasty guy, then."

She nodded. "But before we get to him, I have to set the scene. The year is 776 by the Grann Calendar, and the whole of Jugdral is ruled by the emperor Arvis..."

* * *

Kjelle groggily cracked her eyes open. She slowly sat up, squinting in confusion as she took in her surroundings. Bright sunlight streamed through a small bedroom. By the looks of things, it hadn't been occupied in some time. She looked about at the meager furnishings: an empty closet and a humble writing desk that doubled as the bed's nightstand. She swung her legs over the side of the cot, gritting her teeth as her wounds flared in aching protest. She stretched a bit, taking note of the simple nightshirt and leggings she now wore. Her lip curled as she contemplated who exactly had changed her clothes, and, more importantly, what they might have done with her armor. She stooped to check under the bed, finding only a bedwarmer that was rather disappointingly not her weaponry.

Kjelle pondered. Obviously, she was not dead. That strange man was likely responsible for that. She pulled up her shirt to inspect her midriff and found it bandaged. The fact that her wounds had been tended to, and that she was not shackled in some grimy basement, probably spoke towards good intentions. Still, Kjelle didn't plan on lingering. She had a job to do, and godsdammit, she was going to do it.

She stepped toward the room's only door, stopping dead in her tracks when it abruptly swung open of another's accord. A middle-aged woman stood in the threshold, holding the doorknob in one hand and balancing a bowl of soup in another.

The woman quirked her eyebrows in surprise, bright blue eyes shining under shortcut blonde hair. "Well, aren't we a hardy one! Who'd have thought you'd be up and about so soon? When Roland dragged you in, I thought you were a goner for sure!"

Kjelle inclined her head. "I don't know who you are, but I take it you've been caring for me. Thank you."

"Whoops, forgot to introduce myself. My name is Aude. And who might you be?"

Kjelle looked at the ceiling. Lucina had made such a big deal about hiding her identity, what with taking that tacky mask from Gerome and going through all of that trouble with her hair (Why not just cut it off?), but why should Kjelle bother to do the same? It wasn't like she was royalty or anything.

"...Kjelle," she replied.

Aude walked past her to set the bowl down on the desk. "Well, Kjelle, what exactly were you doing bleeding to death in the middle of a blizzard?"

Straight to the point, something Kjelle appreciated about Feroxians. However, that particular piece of information was probably something she _should_ keep to herself. "Run-in with some slavers," she lied.

Aude sneered. "No doubt working for that worm Cassius, I'm sure. Despicable." She turned around. "Alright missy, you sit yourself right down and eat."

"I appreciate the hospitality, but I can't stick around," Kjelle declined, trying very hard not to look at the food lest the pangs in her stomach intensify.

The housewife put her hands on her hips. "That was _not_ a request."

Kjelle stiffened. Gods, she hadn't seen an expression like that since her mother was alive. "Al-Alright," she immediately acquiesced. She begrudgingly sat down, glancing uneasily up at Aude, who stood over her with arms folded. Kjelle raised the spoon out of the broth, then hesitantly took in a mouthful. Her eyes shot wide; it was a simple dish, with very little in way of spices or seasoning, and her standards had probably declined under her forced diet of " _whatever the hell was still edible_ ", but gods if it wasn't delicious all the same. She ravenously brought up three more spoonfuls in quick succession, but abruptly stopped when she felt a light smack on the back of her head.

"Table manners, child," Aude tutted. "I didn't make that so that you could eat it without tasting it. One mouthful at a time, and chew your meat." She smiled. "I'll go fetch you another bowl."

Kjelle would have scowled if if her mouth hadn't been otherwise occupied.

* * *

Aude was ladling out Kjelle's fourth serving when her husband opened the door.

She glanced up. "Ah! You took a while, Roland! Our guest is already awake! Spunky little firecracker, that one."

Roland silently shut the door, then wearily pulled out a chair and sat at the table, hands steepled. His green eyes were dull with fatigue.

Aude immediately became concerned. Roland always had a smile for her when he returned. "Dear? What's wrong?"

"...Oliver's dead."

Aude dropped the bowl she was holding, producing a loud shatter. There came the thumping footsteps of someone running on hardwood floor, and Kjelle burst into room. "What happened?! Are we under attack?!"

Aude cursed under her breath and immediately crouched to begin picking up the clay fragments. "Girl, fetch a rag from the linen closet and help me clean this mess up."

Kjelle scanned the dark-haired man. "Who's this?"

"My husband," she answered. "Rag. Now."

"Y-Yes, ma'am," Kjelle nodded before heading off to complete her assigned task.

Aude stood up, set the fragments on the fireplace mantle, then strode over to Roland. "What happened?!"

Roland gritted his teeth. "He was stabbed in the back, multiple times. They found him in a ditch at the highway crossroads. Must have been that bastard Cassius and his gang. Had to be."

"Damn him!" Aude spat. "If I ever get my hands on that slimy toad, I'll wring his godsdamn neck!"

"My dear, as much as I would love to see that, it has to be me. I have to be the one to put that monster down. He-" Roland put his hand to his face. "Oliver was... Oliver was my..."

Aude placed her hands on his shoulders, "I'm so sorry, dear."

He intertwined her fingers with his. "So much for retirement. I thought the villagers could handle themselves, but if those sons of bitches could get even Oliver..." He sighed.

His wife pursed her lips. "Are you sure you can do this? How long has it been since you've had to wield a sword?"

"...I'll manage."

"I can handle it for you."

Roland and Aude both jerked their heads up, staring at Kjelle. Neither had noticed her re-enter.

She looked at Roland dead-on. "You're the one who saved my life, right? I owe you. If this Cassius guy really did kill your friend, then I'll get you vengeance."

Roland narrowed his eyes. "He's out of your league, kid. Just because he's a coward doesn't mean he's not dangerous. An amateur like you wouldn't stand a chance."

Kjelle bristled. " _Amateur_?!"

"Amateur," Roland emphasized flatly. "I can see it at a glance."

"Who do you think you are, old man?! You don't know a godsdamn thing about me or what I've been through!"

"Can't say I do. Can't say I care either. But I'm still responsible if something happens to you. You're not going anywhere. You challenge him at your level, and he'll reduce you to a smear in the snow." He grimaced. "Or worse, he'll keep you alive."

Kjelle glowered at him. "...Where is my armor?"

"Woodshed. You're welcome, by the way. I had to make a return trip to collect that crap, what with having to strip it off you in order to carry you."

Kjelle threw the requested towel on the table, then turned on her heel and made for the door.

Roland rolled his eyes while Aude gave something that was a mix between a laugh and a sigh.

* * *

Kjelle was getting used to the cold. If she thought about it, it wasn't all that much worse than it had been back home. Hell, at least in this era the sun was usually out. She briefly pondered why Lissa had ever complained about not being able to see it anymore. The thing was stupidly bright. Why would she miss something she couldn't even look at for more than two seconds?

She threw open the woodshed's door, sighing deeply in relief when she found her armaments neatly organized in the corner. She stooped down to inspect her gear, pleasantly surprised to find that her savior had even gone to the trouble of giving her armor and weapons a good cleaning. This was the work of a man who understood warfare.

There was a creaking noise behind her. Kjelle guessed that this had been deliberate and for her benefit. She glanced over her shoulder to find the man leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"You're a soldier, huh?" Kjelle asked.

"Used to be," he replied dryly. "Was pretty good at it too, until I quit."

"What made you stop? Bad leg? Bad back?"

He grinned. "Bad woman."

Kjelle smirked. "I like her. You have good taste."

"Aude is my sunshine. And she would give me unending hell if I let something happen to you." He jerked his chin. "Back in the house. Let's go."

Kjelle stood up. "I'm grateful to you and your wife. I really am. I'd feel bad if I left without doing anything for you. But I'm not about to sit around with my thumb up my ass. I have somewhere I need to be, someone I need to find. I'll cut down the rat bastard to settle up with you, and then I'm gone."

"One, you're not healed yet. Two, Cassius would kill you even if you were."

"We'll just see about that."

He stood up straight. "...Alright. How about this. A quick spar." He picked up a thin firewood segment. "I'll use this, and you get to use your lance. First contact. I win, you stay here until you're fully healed, and you leave Cassius to me. You win, you do whatever the hell you want."

Kjelle stared at him, baffled. "Are you screwing with me?"

"A concession? Wise choice."

She snatched up her lance. "Don't think I'll let you mock me like this. I'll lay you out."

He smirked. "Sure you will, kid."

She growled.

* * *

The two stood some paces from each other, each taking a stance. Kjelle wasn't the most limber of fighters given that she was used to battling under the constraints of heavy armor, but the reach of her lance would be more than adequate. She just had to strike first, and strike decisively. Besides, her opponent was certainly pushing forty years old. Not a problem.

The man had a bored look on his face. "We can start whenever you want. You don't need to bother announcing."

A vein bulged in Kjelle's brow. She sized her opponent up a moment, then swiftly jabbed.

Her adversary tilted to the right ever so slightly, allowing the lance to slip by harmlessly. He casually grabbed the shaft and gave a rough tug. Kjelle, surprised by his strength, was dragged forward, stumbling as she tried not to fall on her face. She regained her footing just in time for the man to lightly tap her on the forehead with the log.

Kjelle stepped back, completely at a loss. She had been defeated overwhelmingly. Even Lucina couldn't manage something like this. Hell, Kjelle wasn't even certain her own mother could have. She had thought that constant battle with Risen would have prepared her for anything this era could throw at her, but that belief had just been ruthlessly crushed. "How... How the hell did you do that?"

He shrugged.

Kjelle was silent a moment, then stiffened her shoulders and bowed. "My name is Kjelle."

"Mine's Roland."

"Roland?"

The man nodded proudly. "That's right, just like the hero from The Scouring."

"The hell's a Scouring?"

Roland narrowed his eyes. "Not very cultured, are you?"

"Trust me, if you had my upbringing, you wouldn't be either."

She cleared her throat, then went on her knees, bowing on all fours as she lowered her forehead to an inch off the snow. "Master Roland, I ask that you take me on as your disciple. There is much I could learn from you."

Roland quirked his eyebrows.

"Hell no."

Kjelle jerked her head up. "What?!"

"Hell. No. I'm retired. After I put Cassius down I'm going back to my nice simple life of hunting and gathering. If I wanted a brat tagging along and asking me stupid questions..." He abruptly trailed off, eyes sorrowful as he stared at a small stone marker off in the distance.

"...Master Roland?"

He snapped his head back toward her. "Don't call me that," he growled.

"Please! You have to teach me! I could get so much stronger training under you!"

Roland tilted his head. "Weren't you just going on about how you can't stay here? And now at the drop of a hat you're willing to stick around for what, months on end?"

Kjelle tightened her fists. "That was before I knew how weak I really am. What the hell good can I do if I can't even beat an old man?!"

"You say some rude things, brat. That part of your upbringing too?"

"Mother never believed in mincing words."

"Hmph. Well,-"

Roland fell short, ears perking as he heard shouting. He and Kjelle turned to see a young boy sprinting through the snow. His panic was apparent as he ran haphazardly, nearly tripping before he came to a halt before the two.

"What's the matter, kid?" Roland asked.

"Mr. Roland! Th-There's-! In the village-! Cassius's men!" he gasped.

Roland became rigid. "Girl. Give me your lance."

Kjelle looked at him. "But I-"

" _Now._ "

Kjelle relinquished her weapon without further protest.

"Run and tell Aude what's happened," he commanded before taking off in a dash.

Kjelle bit her lips as she watched the rapidly vanishing figure. She turned toward the boy. "Hey, kid. How many of those guys were there?"

"F-Five," he wheezed, hunched over with his hands on his knees.

Kjelle cursed under her breath. She looked at Roland's house for a moment, then turned and sprinted after him.

* * *

Cassius's men stood at the village center, facing the village elder and the small crowd gathered behind him. In spite of being significantly outnumbered, the mercenaries were completely composed, confidently displaying their weaponry while the unarmed citizens shuffled restlessly.

The elder cleared his throat nervously. "My good men... While Sir Cassius's offer of... _protection_ is most gracious, he offers it at a price we cannot pay."

"That'd be _Lord_ Cassius," the lead mercenary corrected. "An' you'll be findin' this to be a rather agreeable deal. You can never have too much assurance. All sorts of accidents be fixin' to happen 'round these parts."

"Like what happened to Oliver, you son of a bitch?!" a man yelled from amidst the crowd.

The mercenary smirked. "Unfortunate, that. Got some bad folks roamin' the wilderness. Awful risky, travelin' alone. But we can make the roads safe."

"Only way that's happening is if you bastards all drop dead!" another shouted.

"Oh, you're hurtin' my feelings, mate! I think I'm abouta cry!" the mercenary laughed. He turned back to the elder. "Now then, we'll be takin' our down payment." He scanned the crowd, then pointed at a young woman. "...You. You'll do."

"But we have agreed to nothing!" the elder protested.

The mercenary shook his head, his hand sliding down to his sword pommel. "Mate, mate, this was never an agreement. It's an _arrangement._ "

"Only arrangements happening here are for your funerals. Not that you shitheads deserve anything of the sort."

Everyone turned as one to view the newcomer. Roland rested Kjelle's lance on his shoulder, a look of bored contempt on his face. There was a brief silence, and then the crowd began to cheer and chant his name.

"Well, well! Roland, is it? You must be that bloke Lord Cassius was talkin' about!"

"And you're his lackeys, I take it?"

"Distinguished retainers, matter o' fact."

"Mmm. You get one chance. Leave now, and live."

The mercenary grinned. "Sorry mate, this here's a collection run. Can't go back empty-handed, now can we?"

"No, I suppose you can't. Alright then... Quick question before we begin. Were any of you the ones who killed Oliver?"

"The tall bloke? Can't say we ever had the pleasure of gettin' personal with him."

Roland glared. "That so? Well then, you lot can have quick deaths."

* * *

By the time Kjelle arrived, three of Cassius's men were slain, and Roland was in the midst of dueling the remaining two simultaneously. The aged warrior was holding his own, but he hadn't escaped injury. At the current rate, he wouldn't last much longer. Keenly aware of this, Roland began retreating. His opponents, overestimating their standing, eagerly pursued. Roland drew them towards a torch, then in a deft spin swung and yanked it out of its sconce to rake it across one of the men's face. As the mercenary howled and raked his fingers over his seared flesh, Roland tossed the torch at the man's partner, forcing the second foe to shield himself and provide Roland ample opportunity to ram Kjelle's lance through the burned man's throat.

The lone surviving mercenary, the one who had lead the pack, growled and charged Roland. There was a rapid exchange before the mercenary scooped up snow in his hand and flung it in Roland's face. The ex-soldier staggered backward, and though he staved off injury, he lost his footing and fell on his back. He tried to scramble back onto his feet, but the mercenary was quickly on top of him, raining down blows that Roland could only barely keep at bay.

While the spectators were paralyzed in the face of mortal combat, Kjelle had witnessed comrades fighting off certain death more times than she cared to recount, and as such, had no problems reacting to this turn of events. She sprinted to one of the felled mercenaries, snatched up his sword, and screamed as she charged Roland's assailant. The mercenary just barely had time to turn his head before he was impaled.

It was far different from putting down a Risen. There was less yield; the death had more _weight_. Kjelle could feel hot blood running down her bare arms, and the flesh and blood struggling against the blade, as if the body was trying to resist this finality. Where a Risen simply faded, a human struggled to the end.

And then abruptly it all ceased. The mercenary slumped forward, then toppled over with a push from Roland. The man quietly rose to his feet.

"...So, that's what it feels like, huh?" Kjelle asked as she stared at the listless corpse.

She immediately vomited.

Roland gazed down at her. "...Thanks, kid. I thought I told you to go tell Aude what was happening, but you saved my hide, so I suppose I shouldn't get angry."

"Well, you never told me not to follow," Kjelle smiled.

Roland smirked. "True enough. But did you even do what I asked you in the first place?"

"Er... Not exactly."

Roland sighed in exasperation. "Dammit. We're in for it when we get back. Well, we'll leave this mess to the village folk. I'm in enough trouble without you catching cold."

Kjelle nodded, then stood up.

Roland had a quick discussion with the elder, then began to walk with her.

"Hey, kid. You remember that favor you were asking me?"

"Yeah?"

"...I'll think about it."

* * *

Robin finished the last few bites of his jerky as he leaned against a tree. Lucina stood close-by, observing the village nestled in the valley past the hills they stood atop. It had taken them five days of travel to reach this point, which, coincidentally, had afforded Robin just enough time to tell his tale in full.

"Do you think we'll find her here?" Lucina asked.

"Hmm... Maybe. Cassius's manor is still another three days or so from here, but Kjelle doesn't have any reason to go there if her mentor is still alive. She's probably in one of the villages in the vicinity. I'm not too familiar with this area though; we only passed through two villages on our way to the manor." He crossed his arms and raised his chin skyward. "You know, I made a very nice map that would've been really helpful right about now. Such a shame that _someone_ had to go and shred it."

Lucina fidgeted, flushing. "I apologize once more. It was meant to be a symbolic gesture..."

Robin smirked. Lucina was surprisingly cute when she squirmed like this. He waved his hand, laughing. "I know, I know, it's fine. You're lucky it's all up here," he said, tapping his head with his finger. "My mind is a steel trap."

Lucina suddenly grinned and snapped her fingers. "So not a _silver_ trap!"

Robin stared blankly. "...What?"

Lucina's mouth opened slightly. She was silent for a moment, and then her cheeks developed a red tinge.

Robin tilted his head. "Was that... Was that an attempt at a joke?"

She stared at the snow.

"Like... Oh, I think I get it! Like weapon quality, yeah?"

"Th-That was the intent..."

"Hahahaha! Oh man, that's bad. Well, it's the effort that counts, and at least you had a reasonable base."

Lucina scowled. "Don't patronize me." She donned her mask. "Let's get moving. The sooner we get to questioning the villagers, the sooner we can find Kjelle."

Robin quirked an eyebrow, then leaned over and plucked the mask from Lucina's face.

Lucina's hands flew to her now bare face. "Robin?! What are you-?!"

Robin waved the mask. "You don't need this. We're deep in Ferox. Even if someone notices _and_ recognizes the brand in your eye, they're not going to care."

"That's my decision to make!"

Robin grimaced. "Alright... Cards on the table: I've never cared for the Marth persona. I'd much prefer it if you could just be you."

She blinked.

Robin looked away. They were both blushing now. "Not to mention, if Kjelle spots us first she'll have an easier time recognizing you without this on." He glanced at her, then offered her mask back.

Lucina was silent for a moment, then sighed. "...Hold onto it for now." She began walking toward the village.

Robin gave a slight smile of triumph as he tucked the mask into his coat pocket.

* * *

Kjelle was quickly becoming accustomed to life in Roland's household. Chopping firewood, milking cows, and collecting eggs had all become routine. If not for the itch caused by the man's refusal to formally acknowledge her as an apprentice, Kjelle might have even gone so far as to call it a comfortable existence.

As Kjelle had just learned, Roland apparently went to the village weekly to gather news, barter, and catch up with friends in the tavern. Given that Kjelle had no interest in these things, she found herself leaning against the well in the village center, drumming her fingers on the wooden beam as she waited for Roland to emerge.

Because of how unexpectedly ordinary her life had become, Kjelle doubted her senses when she caught a flash of cobalt. She blinked, then looked about wildly. She thought she saw that same blue hair again for another instant before it disappeared from view.

Kjelle stood upright. It was possible she was going crazy, but she wasn't just going to let this go. She sprinted through the crowd, crudely shoving her way through passerbys in her pursuit of her potential liege.

She at last burst into a clearing, and she could only stare in disbelief. Sure enough, Lucina stood in front of the very tavern Roland had gone into. A white-haired man wearing a purple coat stood next to her. They were discussing something, but that was irrelevant.

"Lucina!" Kjelle shouted.

The pair stiffened, then turned toward her at once.

"Kjelle!" Lucina beamed.

"Huh. That was way easier than I thought it would be," the man said.

Kjelle sprinted to the princess. "Lucina! What the hell are you doing here?!"

"We came to find you!" she smiled.

Kjelle blinked in confusion. "What? Why would-... Hold on, who the hell is this guy anyway?"

The man scratched his head. "Umm... I'm Robin."

Kjelle squinted in suspicion, taking in his Plegian coat. "Robin as in...?"

"Robin as in _that_ Robin, yeah," he nodded. He cringed. "Well, not that Robin _per se_ , more like a different _version_ of that Robin. A _separate_ that Robin."

Kjelle looked at Lucina in bewilderment. "The hell is he on about?"

"Robin has traveled through time, like us. The main difference between our worlds, aside from his gender, is that he comes from an era where we ourselves had already come to the past."

Robin cleaned one of his ears absently. "That's how we tracked you down, by the way. I'd already found you once before, so this was basically me retracing my steps."

Kjelle looked at Lucina as if she were a fool. "And you believe this load of crap?"

"Without reservation," she nodded.

"The hell is wrong with you?! This guy could be a Grimleal for all you know!"

Robin and Lucina winced in unison.

"I assure you, Kjelle, we have gone over that concern _very_ thoroughly," Lucina stated flatly. "Robin is a trusted friend, and he holds power and knowledge well beyond our means. We are quite fortunate to have him on our side."

Kjelle quirked an eyebrow. ""Power"? What, is he supposed to be some kind of tough guy?"

"He killed his world's Grima."

Kjelle's eyes widened, then she burst into raucous laughter.

Robin glanced at Lucina. "Played your hand out a bit fast there," he commented dryly.

"Kjelle, stop laughing!" Lucina pleaded. "I promise you, Robin is by far stronger than we are! I've seen his ability myself!"

Kjelle managed to compose herself a bit. She assessed the situation. She did not trust this man. Not in the slightest. The fact that Lucina had been baited by his bullshit story was troublesome, but that could be brushed over once she coerced him into confessing his lies. All she had to do was beat the truth out of him. And Kjelle had always been a fan of the straightforward approach.

"Alright, prove it then. I challenge you to a duel," she declared, pointing at Robin.

Robin frowned. "Absolutely not."

"Hmph. What a surprise, he's a craven."

Robin pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright, let me spell out for you how this is _factually_ going to go: I'm going to kick your ass. It won't be close. You're going to get mad, and you're going to challenge me again tomorrow. At which point I will kick your ass _again_. This will repeat ten or eleven times before I get sick of it and pretend to throw a match. After this you will become insufferable until I decide to knock you down a peg again, leaving you hungering for a rematch. Rinse and repeat until you die."

"Oh? You saying I bite it in your supposed future?"

"...We all do," Lucina replied somberly. "Including our parents. Robin was the only survivor."

"Something I'm damn well going to fix this time around," he added.

"Hmph. Tell me then, Mystery Man: How do I die?"

Robin grimaced. "...Standing," he replied evenly.

"Ha! Well, can't ask for better than that. I bet you only lived because you ran and hid while everyone else was doing the real fighting."

Robin could sniff out a ploy when one presented itself. Even Kjelle wasn't this callous, not without a deliberate reason.

All the same, he involuntarily tightened his fists.

"Kjelle, it is more likely that I will spontaneously drop dead from an _aneurysm_ than it is that you will defeat me."

"This is true," Lucina confirmed.

"Realistic odds if you're too much of a coward to accept my challenge."

Robin narrowed his eyes. "I fought Walhart. I fought Mus. I fought Grima. Do you really think I'm afraid of fighting _you_?"

"Well if you're not, then quit being such a godsdamn little bitch!" Kjelle shouted. "Show me what you've got already!"

Robin sneered. "Playing with children is beneath me."

A vein bulged on Kjelle's brow, and she abandoned all pretext of subtlety. "Shithead! Assface! Femboy! Shrimpdick!"

Robin rolled his eyes. "I don't have to take this." He glanced to Lucina. "I'll let you handle her. I'll be waiting at the gates." He began to walk away.

A memory of the one time she had seen the Lady Robin of the future-past truly angry sprang to Kjelle's mind, and she immediately seized onto it. "I'd wanna hide too, if I was so ugly that I had to wear that ragged-ass piece of shit trashcoat to distract everyone from my face!" she shouted.

Robin stopped in his tracks. He slowly turned his head, eyes radiating a bizarrely cold, dead fury.

" _What the fuck did you just say about my coat?_ "

Lucina's brows shot up high. Robin hadn't taken that tone even in the midst of their heated argument in Arena Ferox. "Uh-oh. Kjelle, apologize. _Now_."

But Kjelle wasn't about to let this chance slip her by. She grinned. "I'd sooner trust _Lucina_ with picking out my wardrobe!"

The princess squinted. "Now what on earth is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Robin was silent a moment, then took a deep breath.

"Alright bitch, you wanna dance?! _We'll godsdamn dance!_ " he shouted as he drew his sword and his Thoron tome.

In what could be described as divine intervention for the amount of harm it saved Kjelle from, a fiery explosion suddenly rocked a nearby building. The three instantly refocused, and Roland burst out of the tavern doors a moment later. Villagers screamed and ran in panic, the central area rapidly clearing out to reveal a sorcerer and his entourage.

"Cassius," Roland spat.

"And this is why I insisted on wearing my armor. So that's him? What's his deal?" Kjelle asked.

"Fancies himself a noble when Ferox hasn't operated by a feudal system in two hundred years."

"Two hundred and thirty-two years, actually," Robin corrected. He blinked. "Wait, sorry, never mind that. I mean two hundred and twenty-nine years."

Roland glanced at Robin and Lucina. "Who are they? Friends?"

Kjelle shot a glare at Robin. "One of them, at least."

Cassius strolled forward, a troupe of some twenty men comprised of mercenaries, knights, and dark mages following behind him.

Cassius gave a mock bow. "Ah! Judging by the description, you must be Roland. A pleasure. I am Cassius, lord sovereign of these lands. I'm here on rather unpleasant business, I regret to say. Roland, my friend, I'm afraid you and that girl you stand with are accused of a most heinous crime, the murder of knights of the realm."

"Those pieces of shit weren't knights!" Kjelle spat.

"Oh! She confesses! You all heard it!" he cackled to his soldiers. "Well, with guilt proven, we move on to sentencing!" He licked his lips. "It'd be a pity to put such a lovely creature to the axe, so we'll commute the death penalty to a lifetime of... _servitude_."

"Hold, Cassius," Roland interrupted. "I invoke the law above all others in this land: The Trial by Blade."

"On what grounds?" the sorcerer hissed.

"I claim you to be responsible for the murder of my friend Oliver. Likewise, you hold me to be responsible for the deaths of your men. Our accusations bear equal weight, so a contest of arms may be called."

"And why should I go to the trouble? I can have all of you killed this instant should I command it so."

"Perhaps. But do you really think the Khans will overlook reports of The Trial by Blade being desecrated? For anything else you would be able to pin the blame on bandits, but the Trial by Blade is an absolute right. ...Besides, how much more resistance do you think this village could possibly give you if I'm struck down in plain sight, in a fair fight?"

Cassius considered. "...Hmph. Very well. Even a lord is not above the law set by kings." He gestured broadly. "These men shall be my seconds. You have my assurance that they will not act untowardly."

"Kjelle will suffice for mine," Roland replied.

Cassius raised his hand. "We shall take a moment to prepare ourselves. We shall reconvene at the center of the village."

"Fine by me."

Robin glanced at Roland as the man drew and inspected his sword. "This is a setup. He's going to pull some shit."

"Obviously. I'll deal with that as it comes."

The tactician shook his head. "Don't worry. Leave it to me. You just focus on gutting him."

Roland quirked an eyebrow, then smiled. "Hmm. You've got good eyes, kid. Know your way around a fight?"

Robin smirked. "I'd be dead if I didn't."

Roland looked toward Kjelle. "Girl, if something happens to me, you're to take Aude and flee east. Her father lives two villages over. You should be safe with him."

"Nothing's going to happen to you," Kjelle replied. "Hurry up and kill this bastard or Aude will yell at us for being late to supper."

Roland grinned.

* * *

Robin folded his arms as he watched the two middle-aged men duel. Cassius's followers had blocked off all of the alleyways, leaving Roland no avenue for escape and Cassius with only a handful of "seconds". Villagers milled about nervously at the perimeter, torn between support for Roland and fear for their lives.

For the type of man he was, Cassius was surprisingly adept at combat, suggesting that he had at some point run with bandits, perhaps slavers. And to Robin's eyes Roland was, by contrast, clearly once a military man. Just as Roland knew how to press forward aggressively, Cassius knew to keep at range and create a boundary with his magic's attacks.

Suddenly Roland stiffened. "What is the meaning of this, Cassius?!"

The sorcerer glanced behind him, where one of his seconds held his sword to a little girl's throat. "Oh dear. It seems one of my men is acting of his own volition."

"I answer to no man's will but my own," said mercenary declared in a wholly unconvincing tone.

"Oh no, we dare not move against him with the child's life at risk," another mercenary said in a deadpan voice.

"How lamentable," Cassius shrugged. "That man will face justice once our business here concludes, you can be certain. Of course, the severity of his punishment will depend on _whether or not the girl is still alive._ "

"You bastard!" Roland snarled, lunging forward with a strike that sliced open Cassius's cheek.

Cassius scowled, then chuckled. "Roland, Roland... We both know how this ends. Putting it off is only a disservice to an innocent."

Roland could now hear a woman screaming outside the ring, presumably the girl's mother. He gritted his teeth.

* * *

"A hostage?! What honorless savages!" Lucina hissed. She looked frantically to Robin. "Can you do something about this?"

He grinned deviously. "Ohoho, yeah."

She smiled from this assurance. "Would you like me to handle a few of them, then?"

"You're assuming there'll be any left." With that, he vanished.

Kjelle's eyes went wide, and she jerked her head about. "Where'd that idiot go?!"

Lucina smiled knowingly, staring straight ahead. "To work, Kjelle."

* * *

The girl in question was understandably quite distressed given her present circumstances. She should have known that any day that opened on her spilling juice on her favorite picturebook was assuredly going to go downhill. She could only sniffle as she watched Mr. Roland fight the meaniehead villain.

Out of nowhere, a man in a purple coat seemed to pop into existence in front of her. The girl's first instinct was to scream, but that faded the moment the stranger looked at her with a warm face and bright, gentle eyes. What's more, the scary men holding her seemed alarmed by his sudden presence; clearly, he wasn't a friend of theirs.

The man crouched down to address her. "Hello. My name is Robin. Would you like me to take you back to your mother?"

She gaped at him, then nodded furiously.

Robin smiled reassuringly, ignoring the mercenaries as they drew their weapons. His hand drifted down to the hilt of his own sword.

"Alright then. Sweetheart, I'll need you to close your eyes for, oh... Let's say five seconds."

* * *

Resignedly, Roland dropped his sword, his weapon clattering on cobblestone.

Cassius suppressed the urge to cackle. Always wait for the death blow before indulging in mockery.

Roland gazed past Cassius, and his eyebrows suddenly raised in surprise. He smirked, and bent down to pick his sword back up.

Cassius gave an exclamation of shock and stepped backwards. "Wh-What do you think you're doing?! Do you not care if the girl's life is forfeit?! Throw your weapon away, _now,_ or the little brat will-"

The sorcerer's words disappeared as he registered that a man was strolling past him. Robin glanced over his shoulder and gave a cocky grin as he walked by, the young girl carried safely in one of his arms.

Kjelle could only stare slack-jawed as Lucina beamed.

Cassius's eye twitched. He looked back to Roland, who was chuckling quietly to himself as he tapped his shoulder with his sword. Cassius spun around to find that the men who had been holding the girl were sprawled in crimson-stained snow. He began chewing on his fingernails as he processed what had just happened. After a moment he bit down hard, paying no heed to the blood he drew. Never mind what trick that man had just pulled. These fools were still pathetically outnumbered. The white-haired one would pay for humiliating him like this, Roland would be disposed of, and he would take the black-haired girl as this competition's trophy.

Cassius wheeled around, glowering. " _Waste!_ " he screamed, summoning dark magic around the tactician.

Robin shot a sharp glare over his shoulder an instant before the twin barrages converged upon him. Cassius looked on with uncomprehending horror as the tactician seemed to teleport some paces away from the attack's focal point, the dark magic coalescing fruitlessly over open snow.

He turned to face the sorcerer, the rescued girl clutching his coat tightly. "Sorry, Nelson, but I'm not your opponent here," Robin smiled.

Cassius seemed bewildered. "What? I'm not- ...Who is Nelson?!"

Robin laughed. "Oh right, that was the other guy. Sorry, you lot all tend to sort of bleed into each other." He snapped his fingers as he turned away and resumed walking back towards Lucina and Kjelle. "Speaking of bleeding!"

Cassius jumped as he realized Roland was now steadily approaching him. His mind roiled with panic; how had this laughably simple scenario gone so far south?

"C-Come now Roland, we can come to friendly terms, I'm sure!" he wheedled.

Roland cricked his neck. "Certainly. After all, I never speak ill of the dead."

* * *

Kjelle's face was locked in a state of confusion as Robin approached. "But how did you-? When did you-?"

He ignored her, setting the girl down. He smiled at the child. "You were very brave."

The girl swallowed and nodded furiously, struggling not to cry.

Robin grinned at Lucina as she walked up to him, Kjelle trailing numbly behind. "Not bad, huh?"

She smiled back. "Absolutely splendid. But let's not get too ahead of ourselves just yet."

Robin glanced over his shoulder at the outlaws. "Oh, right. You know, I'm surprised the leader hasn't-"

"Don't just stand there, you morons! _Kill them_!" Cassius shrieked.

Robin jerked his thumb. " _That_. Surprised he hadn't done _that_ yet." He glanced at Kjelle. "If I heard right, you've already killed a man, right?"

"What of it?" Kjelle sneered.

"Alright. I'm going to take care of the majority of them. You handle the stragglers." He looked at the princess. "Lucina, if you fight, you'll have to kill. Ultimately it's your choice, but I'd like it if you'd take care of the girl and leave the messy work to those of us who already have dirty hands."

Lucina frowned. "I don't care much for the idea of sitting idly while my friends risk their lives."

"I know."

"...Very well. But only because I know you don't really need assistance here."

Robin ground his fist into his palm. "Great. You won't be kept waiting long."

Kjelle glanced suspiciously between the two, trying to gauge the undertone of that exchange. Before she could field any questions, though, Robin had already disappeared. Kjelle growled, then focused on a mercenary charging them. She dashed forward, pulling her lance off of her back and forcing the man to use his blade to defend himself. The mercenary was fleet-footed, requiring Kjelle to step to the side in an attempt to keep a sufficient distance for optimal range. Frustrated by the mercenary's constant incursions into her territory, Kjelle adopted a more Feroxian tactic and slugged the man in the face. He staggered backward, and Kjelle ran him through, gritting her teeth as she once more felt that repulsive resistance. She kicked the dying man off her lance, then brought it up to guard a second mercenary's strike. She heaved against him, struggling to repel his attack. She managed to force some breathing room, but the swordsman's assault was relentless, and Kjelle was having far too many close calls for comfort.

The mercenary stabbed at her once more. Kjelle yelled and instinctively replicated the move that had humbled her: She grabbed the man's wrist and dragged him forward, tripping him on her foot to send him sprawling. The mercenary hurried to get back on his feet, but was too slow to stop Kjelle from driving her lance through his chest. She panted heavily as she watched his death throes. She had no time to rest though; a third one was running at her from her left. She yanked out her lance, preparing to defend herself, when suddenly Robin materialized out of nowhere. He nonchalantly jammed his sword through the mercenary's heart, then withdrew it with a spurt of blood. The man collapsed as Robin flicked his blade clean, then resheathed it and dusted off his hands. "Well, that's that," he declared.

Kjelle didn't comprehend his meaning. She scanned the village square, finding only Cassius's dead men and the sorcerer very obviously losing to Roland. The mercenaries and dark mages had all been cut down, and the armor knights had holes from where lightning bolts had sheared through their breastplates.

"Did... No, you couldn't have..." Kjelle muttered.

"Nice work," Robin nodded. "That grab was a neat trick. Did the old guy teach you it?"

"Wha-... What the hell are you?!"

Robin grinned. "Just your run-of-the-mill human being."

* * *

Cassius teetered on his feet, breathing raggedly as he clutched his chest. Blood spattered on the ground. "You... You worthless _peon_!" he shrieked.

Roland glared at him mercilessly. "You shouldn't be so upset over something like this, Cassius. This is just the beginning. Once you reach the afterlife, you'll find that Oliver is a much less forgiving man than I am."

Cassius reared back. " _Go to hell! Was-_ "

Roland sliced the sorcerer's chest open. Cassius gurgled, backpedaling for a moment before collapsing and lying still.

* * *

"Mommy!" the little girl cried as she ran into her mother's embrace.

"Oh thank you, thank you! Gods bless you, strangers!" the woman sobbed.

Lucina smiled, then looked toward Robin. "That was quite a showing. I'm starting to feel a bit invalidated, with how little difficulty such a situation gave you."

Robin chuckled. "Well, I did overdo it a tad. _Pass_ gets pretty tiring if you use it too much in sequence."

"Oh? Showing off to impress me?" she teased.

Robin put his hands on his hips and feigned offense. "I'll have you know that I am _naturally_ an impressive person."

"I'll say. Well done, kid," a voice agreed. Robin turned toward Roland. "Thanks for helping out. This could've gotten pretty nasty if you hadn't pitched in."

Robin put his hands behind his head. "Hey, you're pretty tough in your own right. I'm sure if you were younger you'd give me a hell of a fight."

"Hmph. Can't say the body works like it used to. Can't even use _Pass_ right anymore." He shrugged. "Ah well. I'm retired anyway. Hey kid, you ever thought about throwing down at Arena Ferox?"

Robin and Lucina shared a knowing glance and a smile. "It's crossed my mind."

Roland scratched his chin. "Could probably make a name for yourself. Never got yours, by the way."

"Robin. And this is..." He glanced at Lucina. She stared back at him, the deliberate nature of his pause not lost on her.

"...Lucina. I'm Lucina."

Robin grinned.

"Name's Roland. And I take it you're already acquainted with Kjelle here."

Lucina nodded. "That's right."

"Haha! Great, now someone can take the brat off my hands!"

Kjelle's jaw dropped. "But I need you to train me!" she shouted in protest.

Roland jerked his thumb at Robin. "The kid can probably teach you more than I ever could."

Robin shrugged. "That was kind of the plan."

"Besides, as you are wont to ignore, I am _retired_."

She bit her lip. "But..."

Roland looked at her solemnly. "Kjelle, you said you have something important to do, didn't you? People are counting on you, right?"

"...Yes."

"Then go take care of business. And after all's said and done, well, I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing if you dropped by and paid Aude and me a visit."

Kjelle blinked, then bowed waist-deep. "Thank you, Roland. I won't forget you."

Roland smiled. "Nor I you. Take care Kjelle. Now get going. I'll relay your farewells to Aude. It's probably best if you leave without meeting her again; I'm positive she would stop at nothing to keep you around."

"You take care of that woman. She's better than you deserve," Kjelle laughed.

"Ha! That's something I tell myself every day!" He rustled her hair. "Don't you dare die on me, kid."

Kjelle smiled. "How could I? Aude would never let you hear the end of it."

* * *

The trio were past the village outskirts when Kjelle broke an uneasy silence.

"Hey, Femboy... Er, I mean, Robin... Why'd you get so angry when I badmouthed your coat?"

Robin glanced back at her. "Same reason Lucina would get upset if you insulted Falchion."

"Family heirloom?"

"More like "only-part-of-my-family-that's-worth-mentioning-in-a-positive-light" heirloom."

"...Well, I'm sorry for what I said about it. And all that other crap. So please, this time, will you accept my challenge?"

Robin now turned to face her. "Are you legitimately an idiot? Did you actually miss the part where I leveled like twenty guys back there?"

"Of course not."

Robin noted that Kjelle wasn't scowling. She wasn't angry, or irritated. If anything, she was deferential.

 _...Ah._

"...Fine. I accept. First contact?"

"Works for me."

The two took a distance of ten paces apart. Lucina, officiating, raised her hand in the air.

"Begin!" she declared.

Robin walked towards Kjelle. The black-haired woman swallowed dryly, then lunged forward with her lance as soon as Robin was within range. The tactician nudged the lance's shaft to divert the strike, and continued walking. Kjelle withdrew, then struck again. Once more, Robin subverted her attack. Kjelle gritted her teeth and attacked a third time. This time Robin knocked the lance downward, then stepped down on it hard, jarring it from Kjelle's grasp. He continuted his walk up to Kjelle, then lightly touched his index finger to her forehead.

"Match," Lucina announced.

"What? How is he going to kill me with a finger?" Kjelle questioned.

Robin slipped a Thoron tome out of the sleeve of his free hand.

"...Oh."

He withdrew. "Satisfied?"

"...Not at all. But that's good. A teacher who couldn't leave me craving more would be worthless." Kjelle bent down on one knee. "Robin, I ask that you take me as your apprentice."

Robin scratched his chin. "Hmm... Will you call me _Master_ Robin?"

Kjelle gritted her teeth. "... _Yes_ ," she managed to force out.

"Hahahaha! Relax, I'm just messing with you. Friends don't need to bother with titles like that." He stuck his hand out. "Alright, from this day forth, I'll be training you alongside Lucina. Welcome to class, Kjelle."

Kjelle scanned him a moment, then took his hand.

"Thank you for having me, Teacher."


	12. Shadows in the Sand

**A/N: Well, guess who's not dead! Sorry that I've been negligent of this story for so long. I actually have a good excuse this time, though: I'm working on my own original novel, and am more than two hundred pages into it since I started working on it sometime after the last serious update to Another Again. Needless to say, I've been writing, and I've been writing a lot. I've basically written two copies' worth of Another Again in a third of the time.**

 **I want to apologize for the long delay, and to thank all of you who made inquiries about when it would return. By the way, can we talk about how Another Again is now the fourth-most followed Fire Emblem fanfic on the _entire_ site? Holy shit, I really can't thank you all enough. I'm gunning for the number-one slot now, and I intend to get there.**

 **I've been prioritizing my attempts at professional work for a while now, but I've a) hit just a little bit of writer's block and b) have improved enough that occasionally churning out chapters for this story shouldn't impede my work on my book that much; all of this writing has made me quite a bit faster at my craft. (For example, I wrote more than three-fourths of this chapter in a single night). I'm going to attempt to hold to a schedule now, something I've never really done with my fanfiction before. The current plan is to release a 5000-word+ chapter on the fifteenth and thirtieth of every month. Two chapters a month, 10,000+ words a month seems reasonable, I think. I'll do my best to adhere to this, especially for those of you have been patiently waiting through the dry spells.**

 **Once again, thank you everyone for your support. It's the reason I'm still doing this, and the reason I intend to finish this story, even though that's an ungodly amount of time away from now (read: I expect I'll be a professionally published author before that happens, lol).**

* * *

Time always favors its original course. While there are countless possibilities represented within the infinite permutations of reality, the majority of them, as it were, trend toward specific people, specific places, and specific events. But the devil is in the details; often, it is a minor change between timelines that carries the most drastic repercussions. In the timeline that Robin found himself in when he awoke after slaying Grima, the future-past Laurent had already been present for three years, just as events unfolded in the timeline the tactician originated from.

In this timeline, though, the mage had not arrived alone.

It was a simple change in the favored sequence of events, a minor one that would ordinarily be of little or no consequence. The Risen that had pursued the children of the Shepherds had been just a little bit swifter, a fraction of a percentage more potent than in most other iterations. Because of this variance, but more so due to the unpredictable and erratic nature of time travel, the destination these Risen traveled to changed greatly. While most cadres of Risen arrived where they normally would, such as the group that pursued Lucina, a small number of them emerged drastically off-course.

In this timeline, a gate opened above one of the mirage villages, a mere hour before the one that would deposit Laurent.

When the mage landed in the dunes, winded from his fall and disoriented from the shift in realities, he had staggered to his feet only to find smoke and death. Risen had shambled between ruined homes, red eyes gleaming as they stepped over dull-eyed corpses.

Laurent had stared numbly for some moments, then silently drawn his Wind tome.

* * *

The skirmish, though brief due to the Risens' depleted numbers, exhausted Laurent completely. He lost consciousness after the last Risen was subdued, and awoke to sweltering heat and the stench of decay. He dragged himself up to a stand, taking stock of his surroundings. The village was fairly small, though larger than any settlement he had been in since childhood. There was one particularly large building across the oasis the homes were situated around. The pathways were littered with corpses. So far, the past differed little from the future.

A brief search quickly revealed that none of the villagers had survived the Risen attack. A number of the men had died with weapons in hand, indicating they hadn't gone without a fight. Laurent didn't make any outward sign of emotion. He was well-used to being too late to save a village. But weren't things supposed to be different in this era? Hadn't that been the whole point of coming here?

With this thought, Laurent stiffened. He jerked his head about, realizing that he hadn't seen any of his comrades since he had arrived, too caught up in the moment to register their absence. His cries of their names echoed without answer, and as Laurent made his way to the outskirts of the village, with only endless sand to be seen, it slowly sunk into him that there likely wasn't a single living human anywhere to be found. He was alone, completely isolated.

He considered his circumstances for some time, and then his scavenger's instincts kicked in. He made his way to a newly vacant home, and soon after found medical supplies to treat his wounds. The bleeding had mostly abated while he was unconscious, but it was only prudent to safeguard against infection, especially in the case of Risen-inflicted wounds. With this concern attended to, he next raided the pantry. There was no guilt over this action; it was a rational choice to take food that the dead could no longer eat. The meal was nothing exemplary; dried meats and fruits, tubers, and bread. Still, Laurent savored these; fresh food had been a relative rarity in his time, and he still reflexively checked the preserved foods for worms and mold.

With his immediate physical needs addressed, he next set to collecting information. Without data, he could not make sound decisions. He stepped back outside and began strolling by houses, looking for one with an easily accessible roof. He eventually settled on a building with two stories and a palm tree growing next to it, which provided ready if unsteady handholds. He clambered up the tree without much trouble; Laurent knew that he was not at heart an athletically-inclined individual, but the conditions of his upbringing had afforded him little choice in the matter.

He heaved himself onto the roof, then stood. The scene that greeted him broke his heart.

Infinite white, shimmering in the heat and without a soul in sight across the entire horizon. He sank to his knees, overwhelmed. He knelt there for some time, mind oddly blank. After a while, he managed to drag his thoughts back into line, and stood up. For a village like this to exist, it must have some method of contacting the outside world, no matter how far away that was. Surely, someone had recorded that information. He climbed back down to the ground, and was about to step into the house to begin searching for documentation when his foot nudged against something. He looked down at the body of one of the deceased villagers.

"...Ah. Pardon me, I've been terribly rude," he murmured. His first words in the new (old) world.

Laurent began to drag corpses over into a pile, set on creating a pyre. He was three or four bodies into this endeavor when he remembered that the dead were typically buried during this era, as there was no concept of their bodies returning as Risen if not reduced to ash. Laurent stared at a young woman's face, pondering, then unceremoniously added her to the pile. He was just one man; it was not reasonable to expect him to fritter away time in this place digging graves when he had a mission of dire importance. The people of this village, assuming they were to have been informed about the looming Day of Grima, would surely have understood. Besides, a cadaver was nothing more than a cadaver; it had no reason to care how it was disposed of. The spirits of the departed, if such things really existed, could content themselves with a simple prayer. Laurent paused his work; it struck him that as he was in a desert, it was entirely possible that this was Plegia, and these people had been Grimleal. A hymn devoted to Naga might give them offense.

He reminded himself that he was analyzing mere hypotheticals; these people were dead, and would never answer his questions. If they indeed found his handling of their funeral arrangements inadequate, then he could just apologize to them in the next life, assuming there was one. If there wasn't, then it was a moot point to begin with.

He dragged another body onto the mound.

* * *

With the needs of the deceased taken care of, Laurent returned his focus to his own, even as the pyre burned. He had decided to search the largest house first, positing that it was the most likely to hold pertinent information. This assumption had at first appeared invalid, until careful inspection of the floorboards revealed a hidden stairwell. Laurent had quickly descended, hopeful that perhaps this concealed sanctuary was sheltering another living being.

This idea was shortly dashed; the large basement was completely devoid of human presence. That said, it was an appealing place, equipped with a working if redundant freshwater well, a massive walk-in pantry stocked well enough to supply a person for vast amounts of time—a small section of which was devoted to raising edible mushrooms—and most beneficially, a well-tended writing desk covered with papers and a wide bookcase filled with tomes.

Laurent skimmed the papers, each of them interesting in their own right, particularly those mentioning a "Goddess Staff", but none of them what he sought. He became increasingly concerned as information on the surrounding desert failed to materialize, but on a second sweep, he realized that he had accidentally passed over a map. He squinted, adjusting the oil lamp to be sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

On the map, his current location was but a small dot in the center, and other settlements were on the far ends of the page. What's more, the deserts between them were labeled as the "Shifting Dunes", with all manner of annotations warning of the treacherous conditions that threatened safe passage. By even a conservative estimate, a trip across open desert would take days, and that was assuming he didn't become lost in a habitat that would do its best to cause him to become so. Laurent silently processed this information, then sank into a chair and cradled his head in his palms.

* * *

He spent the next two days poring through the papers and consolidating all of the village's supplies into one place. Ordinarily, he might have placed more importance on research than something like this, but a number of factors made him wary: a small cache of weapons in the basement's corner, a heavy deadbolt lock on its trap door, and the seemingly unnecessary well in a village with an oasis. These factors suggested the basement's primary function was defensive, and that begged the question of what it defended from.

* * *

The answer came the next night. It was coincidence that protected Laurent; having indulged in wondrously comfortable bedding for the first few nights, the mage had now reverted to his night owl tendencies, spending the hours past midnight at the desk buried in books and papers, compiling every piece of information he could use to mount an expedition across the Shifting Sands. From reflexive caution, he had locked the door behind him, a psychological factor that may well have saved his life.

Footsteps came from above. Startled, Laurent nearly scrambled to his feet, but managed to keep his impulses enough in check that he avoided creating excess noise. He crept up the stairs to the basement door, which had a small peephole through which the ground floor could be surveyed.

Men stood in the house. Laurent's heart skipped a beat.

They were large, crudely dressed, carried even cruder weaponry, and seemed to understand precious little of the merits of basic hygiene. Laurent immediately wished to reveal himself and ply these men for aid, but instinct withheld him from doing so. Not all humans were innately trustworthy, not even in the past. These could be the "bandits" that the surviving Shepherds had spoken of when they described their military duties prior to the Plegian War. If this were the case, it would not be difficult to predict how these men would react to his sudden presence.

The men murmured to themselves in, to Laurent's surprise, coarse Ylissean. This was useful information; there had only been one arid region in Ylisse prior to the Day of Grima, narrowing down his current location by a significant degree. Knowing this, Laurent could now formulate a route to reach Ylisstol with. The capital, his old home, would be the gathering point most likely to occur to his comrades if they had been scattered just as he had. He became somber when he considered that as he had arrived alone, the prudent course would be to assume that only he had survived the ordeal of crossing the ages. He had no evidence suggesting that any of his comrades, not even Lucina, had arrived safely. This thought was what kept him silent as the bandits spoke, rather than his honed survival instinct.

The bandits seemed to be chattering about the state of the village. They sounded annoyed by the loss of spoils, rather than the loss of human life. In particular, they lamented the lack of coin, most of which Laurent had gathered while consolidating his supplies. The mage's lips curled in disgust; no amount of refined ore was worth a human life.

After some time, the men left the room. Laurent remained where he was; he would abstain from venturing above-ground until after sunrise. He began to ponder what to do from here; the bandits would likely seek to use this place as a base of operations in the near future, even if it wasn't their immediate aim. Inevitably, they would return. This thought was interrupted by loud noises coming from outside the house, but they faded soon after. Laurent quirked an eyebrow, but decided that it wasn't something worth investigating. He went back down the stairs, and returned to his work.

* * *

Laurent emerged from the basement near dusk the next day, partially because he had only gone to sleep early in the morning, and partly to escape the desert's scorching heat. Laurent was surprised at how much he detested the climate's temperature; given how eternally cold the world he had come from was, he had believed that he would naturally acclimate to a much warmer environment in compensation. The fact that he hadn't was an intriguing aspect of the human condition, something that merited scientific inquiry at a more opportune time.

During his research, the idea of constructing a transport had occurred to him. If he were to build a small raft and affix a mast and sail to it, he could use the power stored within his Wind tome to propel himself, provided that he was careful to curb the magic's output. This would also allow him to carry a greater volume of water and provisions than if he were to travel on foot, making the idea further appealing. While he had already put some effort into the design of such a vehicle, he need to ascertain whether or not he had the requisite raw materials that would compose it. He began to walk through the main village path, pondering whether to use floorboards for the project, and if so, how to uproot them, when he realized that a figure stood in his path.

A bandit turned to look at him over his shoulder. Laurent stopped dead in his tracks.

"...Who the hell are you?" the man asked gruffly. He had an ugly gash on his chest, and an uglier face. The wound wasn't properly closed, still seeping blood through amateurish stitching. Beyond him, Laurent could make out a prone man lying facedown in the sand.

"...I am a scholar," Laurent replied. As a seeker of truth, he was reluctant to engage in deceit, but his duty also necessitated that he withhold unnecessary information about himself.

The bandit sized him up, then began to lumber over toward him.

"...Good sir, might I inquire to the state of your fellow?" Laurent asked, gesturing to the prone bandit.

"Dead. Had a little fallin' out, me an' him." The bandit jerked a thumb toward his chest. "Sonova bitch got me good, but I got him better."

Laurent narrowed his eyes. The men's quarrel must have been the source of the disturbance from the previous night.

"Seems me mates left me for dead, eh?" the bandit asked, looking about. "Ah, right bastards they are."

Laurent cleared his throat. "Good sir, might I offer you a bargain? I have need to make my way out of these deserts, and could use a guide. Would you lead me through the Shifting Sands, and back into Ylisse proper? In return, I can clean and properly stitch your wound, and give you more than adequate monetary compensation."

The bandit simply looked him over, eyes gleaming. Laurent stepped back, hand reaching down to his belt where his tome was strapped. There was an unsettling look in the bandit's eye; greed, malice, and perhaps even lust lurked within.

"Nah... I've got me a better idea." He began to step forward, his hand reaching down toward his own belt-affixed weapon, a poorly cared-for throwing axe.

Laurent swallowed dryly. "I would advise against further approach. I am armed, and will defend myself if I feel it is warranted."

The man said nothing, drawing his axe.

"You will not be warned again," Laurent said firmly, eyes obscured by the lens flare of his glasses.

The bandit took another step.

Laurent whipped out his tome and cut the man's chest open with a single well-placed Wind spell. The man stared in blank surprise, before toppling over into a patch of blood-drenched sand.

Laurent stared silently at the corpse. This man had wished to kill him. Laurent had made the sound, coldly rational choice to eliminate the bandit before that could happen. It was no different than putting down a Risen. He had no cause for guilt or remorse.

Indeed, those feelings weren't what disquieted Laurent.

It was that he didn't feel those things at all.

* * *

The next two days were spent in preparation for his voyage. After the brief and unpleasant task of burning the bandits' bodies, Laurent had set to constructing his raft and loading it with the materials he would need for his journey. Twine was in short supply, but the mage managed to make due with woven palm reeds. To his amusement, building a raft was rather like building a lean-to, if just a tad more involved. He had become rather accustomed to this when he had gone to retrieve Vert and the Fire Emblem alongside Gerome and Severa. Laurent tried not to dwell on the past, but that failure haunted him in particular; if they had only known that Sable had already been destroyed, then maybe Sir Libra would still be alive. Still, without the Emblem and the Gemstones to empower Naga enough to create portals through time, then this whole expedition wouldn't have been possible to begin with, so it wasn't as if the effort had been entirely wasted. Regardless, Laurent couldn't help but ponder the veracity of the connection between this timeline and his own; if one existed, wouldn't any changes he had and would go on to effect in this world have immediately affected the other, so intricately and omnipresent in nature that the differences would never have been registered in the first place? By this logic, either their mission had an inherent and predetermined conclusion, or it would have no effect at all.

Laurent had shaken his head at that thought. This was not a question that needed pursuit. Some mysteries were better left unexplored; his mother had demonstrated that beyond a shadow of a doubt.

By the end of the second night, he was entirely prepared to set out.

* * *

He hadn't been prepared for how dull the desert was. Even when traveling cross-country in his own time, the long journey had never bored him because it had always been tinged with alertness for Risen patrols, and alleviated by conversation with his companions. Laurent missed those simple talks now; the only person he had spoken to at any length since arriving in this era was also the person he had killed.

There was no need to be alert in this place. There wasn't any risk of being attacked; the only threat to him was the heat and misdirection. He was forced to stop constantly to readjust his bearing; the notes he had incessantly warned of the hazards of the Shifting Dunes, so much so that Laurent didn't have the option of ignoring them. Whether the dunes were enchanted remained to be answered, but Laurent decided that this was a topic he could investigate once the world wasn't in imminent danger. As long as he stuck to the route detailed in his papers, he would be fine.

Or so he had believed.

It happened in the morning, after spending his first night in the desert, huddled in his sailcloth following an abrupt and baffling drop in temperature. He had resumed progress at a steady speed, when a sudden dip cause his raft to scuttle itself. Laurent had been thrown from the vessel, but the sand had dampened his impact, preventing injury. Thankfully, the raft itself hadn't been damaged either, though it now listed to the side. Laurent picked himself and set to righting the raft. Fixated on his task, he did not notice the change in atmospheric pressure, nor the diminished heat of the sun.

When he looked up, all he saw was a wall of sand, ever growing larger.

His heart dropped into his stomach. Not literally, of course, but he felt it an apt metaphor, and his distress certainly affected him to a great enough degree to produce physical discomfort. He had read of sandstorms, but had not expected to encounter one. He hastily redoubled his efforts to restore his raft's functionality, straining against it with all his might so that it would tip over. After what seemed a merciless amount of time, he succeeded, and scrambled back aboard. He drew his Wind tome as quickly as he was able, and frantically began casting spells into the sail. The craft began to skim across the sand, but not nearly rapidly enough; the sandstorm continued to gain on him. Desperate, Laurent increased the output of his power, all too aware of the risk this action contained. Still, his alternative left him no choice but to take his chances.

Unfortunately, Laurent had never been terribly lucky. With a horrendous sound, the Wind spell tore the sailcloth open, and the vessel skidded to a halt. Terrified, Laurent abandoned the raft, sprinting as hard as he could. But the sand here was deep, and his boots became mired, causing him to trip and fall. He struggled to a kneel, looking over his shoulder at the oncoming force of nature.

Silently, Laurent accepted his fate.

* * *

It didn't kill him. Miraculously, he managed to survive. Laurent slowly regained consciousness, nearly completely buried beneath a pile of sand. He forced his way into the harsh sunlight, shaking himself free of grit and giving loud hacking coughs before gratefully sucking in air. He knelt over with his hands on his knees, panting as he struggled not to vomit from the accumulated stress. After managing to compose himself, he blinked, registering that his glasses were missing. He scoured through the sand for some time, eventually finding them to great relief, and with undamaged lenses, no less. He placed them back on his face, then stood to his full and considerable height, taking stock of his surroundings.

No trace of his vessel remained. No food, no water, and no maps were anywhere to be found.

Morosely, he considered whether it would have been better to have died in the sandstorm.

* * *

In spite of this disaster, Laurent did not have it in him to give up. He had no idea which direction might lead him to salvation, but he knew that any choice was better than waiting for certain death, or noncommittally attempting to scout the area before locking in a decision. At this point, another person might have used some arbitrary method to determine which route to take, such as spinning his hat or some such nonsense, but Laurent was not a believer in superstition. He entrusted his fate to his subconscious, choosing to head the way his instincts first called out to him. This way, at least, there was a possibility he was acting off information his brain had recorded without his conscious awareness.

The journey was brutal. Hours upon hours passed as he trudged through the dunes, during which his body became more and more overheated, his throat more and more parched, and his wits more and more frayed. Nightfall eventually came, and though at first an apparent mercy, the temperatures dropped at an incredible rate, now assaulting him in a different manner. The biting cold was intolerable, and his teeth chattered uncontrollably as he continued on. Eventually, his exertions caught up to him, and he collapsed into unconsciousness.

He awoke to blistering heat. He sighed forlornly, then pushed himself back up to continue onward. Another day passed like this, and during this time, he began to hallucinate. Once, he saw his (presumably) dead mother. Another, he saw an oasis, which mocked him with a mouthful of sand when he attempted to drink. Lastly, he saw Lucina, who simply looked at him before walking away, oblivious to his pleas.

By midday, he no longer had the strength to stand. He was crawling now, too obstinate to give up on the remote chance of survival, when every factor argued against it.

* * *

The next time Laurent regained consciousness, he thought that he was experiencing another mirage or a delusion brought on by heat stroke.

A village shimmered in the distance. When it didn't vanish after multiple blinks aimed at prompting it to do so, the faint light of hope began to stir within Laurent. In a tremendous feat of will, he forced himself to his feet, and began to stagger toward the buildings, screaming hoarsely for any that might hear him. It was agonizing, continuing on like this when his entire body and mind had been pushed to their absolute limits, but her persevered. His long nightmare was surely about to end, if he could just reach a bit further.

He stumbled into the village, and to his utter astonishment, caught sight of an oasis. Fatigue forgotten, he sprinted toward the water in a gait so uncontrolled as to almost be a gallop. He tripped and skidded across the ground, but was then immediately in motion again, crawling desperately toward the spring. With one last, exhausting lunge, he shoved his head into the water, gulping down as much as he could. He knew that he had read somewhere that he was supposed to drink slowly at a time like this, but at the moment, he didn't give a damn. When he remembered that he still needed to breath, he yanked his head out of the spring, rivulets of freshwater mingling with tears of gratitude.

He looked about himself, taking in the village surrounding him. It struck him as odd that no one had noticed him yet. He blinked, and then nearly fell over when a horrible and monstrous realization began to settle into him. He shook his head in disbelief. Surely, this was another mirage. Surely, his eyes were playing tricks on him.

He stared at the building that housed the basement he had inhabited.

Tears of relief slowly morphed into tears of despair.

* * *

His recovery was slow. Aside from the exhaustion his body had endured, his spirit had also suffered terribly. He lay in bed listlessly for days on end, only sometimes bothering to drag himself out of it to relieve himself or to take in food and water.

The loneliness was crushing. He missed his friends. He desperately needed to speak with them, to feel their friendly touch, to look on their smiling faces. Even strangers would do at this point. He simply needed _someone_. _Anyone._

He had no means to mount another expedition, at least one that wouldn't be abject suicide. He had used the best building materials available in the construction of his raft, and what remained was mostly second-rate. He had lost his Wind tome as well during the storm, along with every piece of information about the deserts he had accrued.

He was trapped, and there was nothing he could do about it. His only hope now was that a benevolent person would somehow stumble upon him, and shepherd him back to the real world, out of this inescapable hell he now found himself bound to.

Eventually, someone did come. It just wasn't whom he expected it to be.

* * *

Once he had it within himself to get out of bed, Laurent set to searching once more, hoping beyond hope that he had overlooked some information that could still be of use to him. During the course of his investigation, he stumbled upon an old chess set within one of the house's chests. He stared at it for a moment, and was about to replace it when a whim struck him. He ran his finger over the glass-coated board, then stood and carried it back down to the basement. Laurent had brought most of the house's furniture down there to give him more space to spread out reading materials on, and had even considered dismantling the bed and rebuilding it so that he could sleep below-ground. He placed this board down on one of the tables, and began to set it up. He wasn't sure why he was doing this, but he reasoned that _some_ form of entertainment might do him good as long as he was stuck here. True, he had no opponent to play with, but there was a transcript of famous chess games among the possessions of the former owner of the house, meaning he could derive some enjoyment out of recreating those games and analyzing the decisions behind each move.

He took a few minutes to locate the book, opened it up to the first page, skimmed it, then pushed a white pawn forward.

* * *

By the time Laurent had finished the book, he was no closer to escaping the village than when he had started. No new knowledge had materialized within the month, and no one had made their way to the settlement. He had spent this time learning greater magic, rebuilding his Wind tome, and strengthening his body with an exercise routine he had found in one of the books, but he still lacked any means to with which to leave.

He had just finished inscribing the glyphs of a new page for his tome when something caught his eye. He looked up to find something strange about the chessboard: it wasn't as he had last left it. The pieces had been reset. Laurent considered this a moment, then shrugged his shoulders, got up, and advanced a white pawn. He figured that by pouring his focus into his work, he could play a game with himself, returning to act for each side with fresh eyes every time. He sat back down, and had soon filled out another Wind page, his tome nearly repleted now.

When he looked up again, a black pawn had been moved as well.

He blinked.

Laurent cautiously approached the board. He was certain that he hadn't made a move. He frowned as he assessed the board, then shrugged once more. It was likely that he had simply been so focused on his task that he hadn't registered getting up to make another move. He advanced a white knight, then returned to his desk.

The sound of another piece being moved reached him before he could sit back down.

He whipped his head around, finding that another black pawn had been moved. He stared dumbstruck, certain that this time, there was no way he could have forgotten making a move for the black side. He swallowed, then shook his head. It was getting late; perhaps he should go to bed. He turned and headed for the basement door.

"Resigning already?" a voice called.

Laurent froze in his tracks. He knew that voice.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned to face the newcomer.

He stared at himself. Another Laurent sat at the chessboard across from him, arms crossed.

Laurent looked on blankly. This was obviously preposterous; there was no rational explanation for what he was seeing. "...I've gone mad," he said succinctly.

The other Laurent smirked. "Well of course you have. Anyone would under these conditions. You're utterly alone, you're probably going to die here, and you've been eating the same shitty preserves day in and day out. Someone with weaker faculties would have snapped ages ago."

Laurent took a cautious step forward. "Y-You're not real. It's not possible. You're nothing more than a manifestation of mental illness, a projection of my developing insanity."

Other Laurent rolled his eyes. "Well, _duh._ "

Laurent tilted his head. "...Pardon?"

Other Laurent grinned. "Obviously, this conversation is going on inside your head. There's no copy of your body, and you're moving all of these chess pieces with your own hand. Your mind's just playing tricks on you; _clearly_ , I'm nothing but a hallucination brought on by the stress of your own personal hell." He pointed a finger at the real Laurent. "But, compartmentalized delusion that I am, I still have a purpose. I'm still a part of you. You could suppress me if you want, but what good does that accomplish?" He leaned forward, smiling knowingly. "I'm a piece of your mind, the piece you can't reach into of your own conscious accord. Rather than stifle me and return to crushing loneliness, why not make _use_ of me?"

"..."Use"?" Laurent echoed.

Other Laurent leaned back in his chair. "Two heads are better than one, as they say, even if one of them's just a projection. And let's be honest, it's not like you have better conversational options available to you," he laughed, gesturing to the empty room. He pointed to the board. "So how about you come play a game with me? And while we're doing that, we can talk about how we're going to win the _real_ game."

Laurent stared at himself for a moment, then begrudgingly approached and sat down at the other side of the board. "...What do you mean by "real game"?" he asked before sliding a white pawn forward.

Other Laurent's lips stretched wide, showing his teeth.

"Defeating Grima."

* * *

It was two weeks later when the bandits next returned.

Other Laurent looked up from their chess game. He was currently in the lead.

"...So, they're back again?" he murmured.

Laurent had learned to live alongside his psychosis by this point. Other Laurent had surprisingly valid insights, most likely things that would have never occurred to Laurent's conscious brain. With his help, Laurent was already working on learning _El_ -class spells, and his training regime had become more streamlined and effective. He wasn't an intrusive presence, either; he only appeared when he had something to say or was playing a game with the real Laurent, and left the host personality to his own devices otherwise. Sometimes his absence lasted for days, and Laurent began to think he was rid of his split personality before once again finding him sitting at the chess board, waiting for the next round.

Most importantly, the growing diagram splayed out on the wall filled with handwritten notes about every piece of data on Grima he possessed would have never materialized without Other Laurent's prodding and helpful reminders.

Laurent nudged a bishop across the board. "Ignore them. They can't come down here and will leave soon enough."

Other Laurent frowned, displeased with the state of the game. "...You really think that's the case? They know there's nothing of value here, and they know how to traverse the deserts. Doesn't it seem a little implausible that they would come through the Shifting Sands just to stop by this oasis?" He looked up, and his eyes sheened. "Or perhaps they're here because this is an optimal location for a home base."

Laurent considered. "...Even so, they won't remain here forever. We-" He paused, frowning. " _I_ can subsist on the stores in the basement and venture aboveground whenever necessary while they're away on raids. This does little to change ou- _my_ circumstances."

"That's assuming they never find the hatch," Other Laurent pointed out.

"...I suppose so," Laurent conceded. He leaned forward. "Well then, what would _you_ do?"

"Wait until their numbers thin out. Lure a handful down here at night, then kill them. Set up traps within the house, then hide down here until they're sprung. At that point, begin picking them off one by one."

Laurent narrowed his eyes. "Do you have a suggestion that doesn't require murder?"

"Murder?" Other Laurent scoffed. "Don't let your emotions cloud your analysis. These are not good men. They are murderers in their own right, savage men devoid of morals. Don't assume that every person in this time is worth saving."

"And don't assume that we need to take unnecessary risks," Laurent countered. "If we engage with these men, then we brave the threat of death. That is unconscionable given the priority we must place on the mission. It is presumable that we are the only people in this era that know of what is to come. Dying an ignominious death in the middle of nowhere does nothing to serve that purpose. We cannot stop Grima if we are dead."

Other Laurent pondered this. "...A salient point. It's in my own interests for you not to die, after all."

Laurent nodded. "Right. We have no cause for concern so long as the well continues to function."

* * *

The next day, the well ran dry.

Laurent glanced at Other Laurent. "Not a word," he growled.

Other Laurent simply smiled and shook his head, simply pointing to his mouth, then to Laurent's, then to the ceiling.

Laurent looked up, realizing that he couldn't converse with his alter ego so long as the bandits were within conceivable earshot.

He folded his arms. This was now a serious dilemma. Without water, he would die of dehydration, precluding his ability to remain hidden belowground indefinitely.

Laurent sighed. He wasn't looking forward at all to what was to come, but he couldn't think of an alternative, and even if Other Laurent could, the phantom wasn't interested in sharing.

* * *

The first two bandits died alarmingly easily. With the hatch deliberately left open, their curiosity had gotten the better of them before their caution could sway them otherwise. They came down the last step, staring in awe at the scope of the basement.

Laurent killed them with a single Elthunder spell apiece.

"Hmm..." Other Laurent smiled. "Seems we've gotten a tad stronger, don't you think?"

Laurent shot a nasty glance at him, but said nothing and made his way up the stairs.

"Do you remember the plan?" Other Laurent asked as he trailed behind.

Laurent nodded.

He found the bandit chief sleeping in his bed. With one Elwind spell, he assured that the raider would never wake again.

The mage looked out the window to see two guards below.

He flipped open his Elfire tome.

* * *

Come morning, the bandits were dead, and one of the houses on the far end of the village had burned to the ground. Laurent sat in front of his handiwork, eyes hard.

"No need to feel bad about this," Other Laurent reminded him. "They were animals. They wouldn't have hesitated to kill you."

"I'm aware," Laurent replied.

This was the second time that he had killed human beings, and the second time he didn't feel overt distress about the action.

This time, though, Laurent wasn't bothered by the lack of emotional register.

* * *

By the end of the first year, Laurent had mastered El-class spells, and was already hard at work on ascending to the next level with Arc-class spells. During this time, his physique had improved considerably as well, and he had read through most of the books in the village at least once.

It wasn't like he had much else to do.

"I've been thinking..." Other Laurent muttered, staring at the chess board.

"Oh?" Laurent responded noncommittally.

Other Laurent looked up. "I believe I've come up with a way to permanently prevent the resurrection of Grima."

Laurent raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Please, do elucidate."

Other Laurent rested a finger on his black king. "The Heart of Grima. If we find that person and kill them, and what's more, wipe their line from the face of the earth, then Grima shouldn't be able to manifest ever again."

Laurent considered this. "Do you truly believe that such a method would yield results?"

"Why not?" Other Laurent grinned. "There's no reason that it shouldn't. And who knows? Maybe the princess will even give you a kiss on the cheek as a reward for your success!"

"...Hmph." Laurent extended his front line by moving forward a white pawn. "Well, proceed. Explain this hypothesis of yours."

Other Laurent pushed forward a black bishop, threatening to take an exposed pawn. "As Naga explained, Grima's human vessel, the Heart of Grima, is bound to Grima, in both body and soul. Why Grima decided to supplant a human bloodline is unknown, considering his evident hatred for our species."

Laurent moved a knight to cover the pawn. "I have actually formulated a hypothesis in this regard. Dragonstones were first invented as a means to subvert degenerative mental illness in dragonkind. The effect is historically referred to as "The Curse of Manakete". However, sealing one's power into a dragonstone greatly reduces it. I postulate that Grima melded with a human bloodline as a workaround to this, allowing him to retain his full power without sinking into madness."

Other Laurent advanced a pawn, opening up an avenue for his rook to take later in the game. "And what happens when you take away a manakete's dragonstone?"

Laurent paused. "...They can no longer transform," he answered.

"Exactly," Other Laurent grinned. "Now then. We know that there is a Heart. We know that there is a traitor. However, the Shepherds knew nothing of the Heart; only of the traitor. This suggests two possibilities: One, that the Heart was a hitherto unknown person. There are a number of difficulties with this notion, however, primary being Mad King Gangrel's staunch opposition to the Grimleal factions in his court. It would have been quite an ordeal to entirely hide a person's existence not only from the Ylissean crusaders, but also from domestic investigations. The idea of the Heart being a completely concealed entity requires too many assumptions for me to consider it palatable. ...Alternatively..."

Laurent tapped his king before committing to castling. "...Alternatively, the traitor and the Heart are one and the same," he concluded.

Other Laurent made an aggressive line with his queen. "Assuming this to be true, it logically follows that the traitor is Plegian. And there were only three Shepherds who were Plegian."

Laurent frowned and cut off a diagonal from the queen by setting a pawn as a roadblock. "Lady Robin, Lady Tharja, and Sir Henry."

Other Laurent tilted his head, thinking for some moments, then withdrew his queen. "Sir Henry died during the Valmese War. Lady Olivia identified his body, and he was given a state funeral. If we favor simplicity, we can assume that it is far too unlikely that Sir Henry faked his own death and then either deceived his wife or involved her as a co-conspirator."

Laurent assessed his forward line's weaknesses, then advanced a pawn. "Lady Tharja can also be assumed innocent, given that she was on leave due to pregnancy at the time. Her whereabouts on the Day of Grima are corroborated by multiple accounts."

"And that leaves one conclusion!" Other Laurent hummed as he made a threatening play with his knight.

"...The traitor is Lady Robin, and she is the Heart of Grima," Laurent said grimly, ignoring the aggression and instead taking his own offensive with his queen.

'Well then, that's that," Other Laurent smiled as he moved a bishop into position for the first steps of his coup de grace. "Kill her, and everything else falls into place."

Laurent frowned. "You're making rash assumptions. Until we can conclusively prove that the traitor and the Heart of Grima are the same person, this hypothesis remains nothing more than just that: a hypothesis." He advanced his own bishop.

Other Laurent scoffed. "You won't be satisfied unless you get everything exactly right. You'll throw away a ninety-nine percent change for victory chasing the remaining one percent."

Laurent narrowed his eyes. "This is a person's life we're talking about."

Other Laurent sneered. "And all of humanity as well. This is a necessary sacrifice, and you know it. Killing Robin is no different from killing those bandits; in fact, it's _more_ justifiable."

"That an assumption based off unproven data," Laurent rebuked. "We have no proof for this claim. Until we have sufficient evidence, what you suggest is the death of an innocent."

Other Laurent narrowed his eyes. "What is this juvenile sense of morality you're adhering to? Think of the percentages weighted against us. We have an infinitesimal fraction of a percent of a chance at succeeding in defeating Grima, and you still want to squander portions of it by rigidly self-policing your morality? What's one innocent's life against the rest of them?"

"...That's enough," Laurent growled.

"Ha!" Other Laurent laughed, jabbing a finger at his counterpart. "The fact that you do not attempt to refute this point means that you cannot!"

"Shut up!" Laurent snapped.

Other Laurent leaned in. "Or what? You'll get rid of me? We both know that you won't. And we both know that deep down you agree with me." The lenses of his glasses flared. "After all, I _am_ you. Nothing I have said is something that could originate externally from your own mind."

Laurent glowered at him.

Other Laurent gazed at him contemptuously. "Really? No attempt at a retort? I expect better from myself." He crossed his arms. "Frankly, I don't think you even care about saving your mother at this point. You just-"

Laurent snarled. He lunged forward and gave a feral swing, but his fist caught only air. He blinked, then sat back.

"...Of course. If I am sitting in this chair right now, then I cannot be sitting across from myself to receive my own assault. Likewise, were I to be sitting in the opposite seat, I would not be in a position to throw a punch at myself from such an angle." He glanced at the board, then smirked. He pushed a white rook down the column.

"Check." He leaned back, smiling confidently with arms crossed.

No one sat across from him.

Laurent's smile faded.

* * *

Other Laurent never manifested again. It took some weeks before Laurent registered that his alter ego likely wouldn't ever return. It was a sobering experience, and it wounded him more than he had anticipated. Once more, his loneliness set in.

He was different now. He could feel it. After some time, he began to believe that Other Laurent hadn't just vanished; he had been reintegrated. The components of Laurent's mind that made up the hallucination had been actively woven into his forefront consciousness. He thought differently, saw things differently, and felt things differently now. He learned at a faster pace, and halfway into his third year in this place, he had mastered Arc-class spells, and was now struggling to create a Rexcalibur tome from the ground up.

He was still mad, of course. He was certain of this. But he knew that he was still fully functional, and that he had not lost sight of his goal. If anything, he grasped it with greater clarity now, and a cold, clear, and perhaps even cruel rationality. He slowly became obsessed with working out the mystery of Grima, and how to bring about the dragon god's downfall.

Everything came back to her. Everything came back to Robin. No matter what angle he approached the problem from, no matter what set of assumptions he labored under, the conclusion he had come to months ago was always where his newest path led. Every branch of the diagram he had carved into the wall could be directed to a portrait of the tactician. Laurent had no other suspects, because no other suspect had even a remotely similar volume of arguments in their favor.

There were a number of reasons why the Lady Robin might betray Ylisse. Jealously over being jilted as Exalt Chrom's lover; lingering loyalty to Plegia, or worse acting as a double agent from the beginning; perhaps even obtuse blackmail or coercion, though Laurent questioned what kind could induce someone to plunge the entire world into darkness. Reasons for betrayal abounded. None of them mattered to Laurent, though—only the act, only the fact of its occurrence. Laurent would prove her guilt, and he would make her answer for her crime.

He would kill the Heart of Grima. He would save the world.

It would be another half a year before he was given his chance.


	13. A Strangled Peace

**AN: Special thanks to TheRepeat for helping me edit this chapter. Be sure to check out their stories; I'm especially fond of _Lies for Children_.**

* * *

Silent snow drifted down over a mountain path, mingling with the ashes of defeated Risen. A small group of villagers huddled along the road, staring fearfully at the hulking figure that barred their path, and hopefully at the hooded man who stood between them and the monstrosity.

The Risen Chief bellowed, the intensity of its scream so great that the exhalation blew the man's hood away, sweeping back hair as white as winter. The villagers cried out in terror, and nearly turned and fled on the spot.

Robin stuck out a hand.

" _Thoron._ "

A stream of intense lighting splayed forth, shearing the Risen Chief's upper torso clear off its body. The villagers stared in blank disbelief.

The monster's remains toppled over and exploded into plumes of vapor upon collision with the ground. Robin sighed in exasperation as he ran his fingers through his hair, matting the locks back down into a semblance of neatness.

"...There's just no sport to this anymore," he groused, watching the miasma born from the Risen's destruction float up into the overcast sky.

Muffled noises came from a distance, and Robin perked his ears. He turned around to look toward the forest behind them, where birds were taking flight from the pine trees en masse.

The tactician frowned. Ordinary Risen shouldn't have elicited such a response from their surroundings, not when animals had had so much time to acclimate themselves to their presence. He scratched his head. "...Perhaps I spoke too soon?"

He turned toward the villagers. "You should be safe now!" he called. He pointed down the path. "Just keep heading down that way. There'll be a fort that'll take you in."

One of the men stepped forward and shook Robin's hand profusely. "Thank you, oh thank you, sir! I don't know what we would have done if not for you!" He pulled away and began to dig through his pockets. "It's not much, but-"

Robin waved a hand in dismissal. "Keep it. You need it more than I do." He nodded to the other villagers, then moved on past them, toward the forest where he had sent Lucina and Kjelle to act as the rearguard.

Even after years of command, he still hadn't gotten used to the flighty feeling in his gut whenever he deployed people beyond his line of sight. It was ridiculous, really; he knew that Risen of this sort shouldn't pose a serious threat to the women, that they needed as much field experience as he could give them, and that he couldn't afford to coddle them.

But even still, as he stared up at the crows circling and cawing, he was worried.

He broke into a run.

* * *

Lucina cleaned Falchion in the snow, removing the last vestiges of a Risen soldier from it. Beside her, Kjelle was making similar efforts with her lance.

"That's the last of them, I think," the knight declared.

Lucina frowned, pensively scanning the trees. "I'm not so sure..." She looked up at the sky. "...Do birds often cause this sort of commotion? It strikes me as odd."

Kjelle followed her gaze, scratching her forehead. "Hell if I know. It's not like there were a whole lot of the little bastards left back in our time."

The princess looked about herself again. Her vigilance was soon shown to be well-kept; rustling sounds could be heard coming from their left. The falling snow created poor visibility, but a large, bulky figure could barely be made out approaching them. Lucina shook Kjelle's shoulder, and the knight immediately took notice and readied herself.

As the monster drew closer, its details started to become more visible through the gloom. It was larger than an ordinary Risen, and glowing red eyes stared out through a sackcloth mask.

Kjelle smirked. "Oh, hey. A Revenant. Haven't had to kill one of these idiots in a while."

The Risen trudged forward, brushing against the trunk of a tree. The pine creaked, then slowly tilted before suddenly crashing down and slamming into the ground, sending tremors through the earth and snow spraying into the air. Instinctively, Lucina tensed up. The creature drew into clearer view, making apparent just how tall it really was—more than twice the height of a full-grown man. Kjelle's expression morphed into shock as she took in the creature's hue.

"H-Hey, Lucina? I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. That's freak's purple, r-right?"

The princess swallowed dryly. "No, Kjelle. It is most certainly not."

The Risen finally stepped out into the open, its mottled gold skin standing out against the falling snow. Kjelle had been mistaken in her initial assessment; this was not a Revenant, but rather, the far more lethal Entombed, the same species of Risen that had killed Sir Ricken in their old world.

"Sh-Shit..." the knight breathed in little more than a whisper.

The Entombed tilted its head back and screamed at the sky, shaking its body in an eerie, shimmering manner. The two women nervously backed away, both trying not to allow their decision-making to be paralyzed by the dread creeping through them.

The Risen suddenly bolted forward, lashing out an extending arm as fast and flexible as a whip. The appendage slammed into Kjelle, swatting her off her feet like she weighed nothing and sending her flying into a tree trunk far away. She grunted as she fell to the ground, her prized armor dented in two places.

"Kjelle!" Lucina shouted. She had little time to worry for her friend, though, for the Entombed's other arm was bearing down upon her. She rolled to the side, only barely avoiding being crushed. The princess righted herself quickly, swiping out with Falchion as the Risen attempted to withdraw its limb. The blade broke skin, but the cut was shallow. With a curse, she realized that the Entombed was now focusing its attention squarely on her, and it shot out its uninjured arm. Lucina backpedaled, only barely managing to sidestep. In a strangely lucid thought for the situation, she noted that she probably wouldn't have been able to dodge that attack if she hadn't become so accustomed to Robin's speed. She didn't have a chance for further reflection, though, due to the Risen's follow-up. Streaking like an arrow at her, the monster's arm came barreling down a straight path, aimed directly at her chest. Already in movement and unable to dodge, Lucina did her best to guard against the Entombed's claws. She gritted her teeth as the impact against Falchion jolted like lighting up through her arms, knocking her off her feet and sending her tumbling through the snow. She scrambled to a crouch, realizing with horror that her sword had been wrested from her hands. She looked about frantically, hoping to reclaim her weapon, but by the time she had caught sight of it, the Risen's next strike was already bearing down upon her. Lucina took a sharp breath, keenly aware of how unlikely it was that she would evade this attack.

Fortunately for her, she didn't have to.

The Entombed's arm slammed into the ground, sending snow shooting up into the sky from the impact. It slowly withdrew the limb to reveal that its effort hadn't been met with success. The Risen looked about in confusion, and soon caught sight of a white-haired man standing a few feet away from the furrow that had been created. He held the princess in a bridal carry.

Lucina blinked, registering that she was no longer on solid ground. It took her a moment to process what had happened, at which point she beamed up at her savior. "Robin!" she exclaimed brightly, all worry melting away.

The tactician wasn't as high-spirited. He gave her a quick glance and a smile, as if to assure himself that she was in fact safe, then fixed his attention back on the Entombed and became grim-faced. "Looks like I was cutting things a bit close, huh..." he murmured.

Lucina stared at him, and after a moment, it occurred to her what sort of position she was in. She flushed as she took acute notice of the feeling of his arms pressed against her back and between the crook of her legs. She gave a nervous cough. "Um, Robin, I-"

She was cut off, though, when the Entombed threw out a blisteringly quick attack, forcing Robin to initiate _Pass_ to evade. Lucina's surroundings seemed to stretch and distort, blurred lines streaking past her vision as Robin darted out of range. Her words died in her throat as a wave of nausea surged over her, which amplified when reality snapped back into a comprehensible form as the Entombed's arm flew by them. The Risen reacted quickly to this development, striking with its other arm and once more giving Robin no choice but to use _Pass_ in order to escape. Lucina was now actively fighting the urge to vomit; how Robin tolerated this unbearable disorientation was beyond her.

Robin gritted his teeth in frustration. He was getting nowhere like this; he couldn't go on the offensive against the Entombed as long as he was carrying Lucina, and it was attacking too continuously to offer him a chance to safely deposit her out of harm's way. If he retreated to do so, then Kjelle was at risk; as things stood, she was only just barely out of the Risen's range, and that would change if Robin lost the enemy's attention. Using magic from a distance was out of the question as well, given that this was an Entombed he was dealing with.

Another attack came sweeping toward him. Cursing under his breath, Robin called on _Acrobat_ and leapt over the monster's arm, then jumped again in midair to avoid the follow-up attack from the other limb before coming down to land. He caught sight of a snowbank as he did so, and an idea came to him. He crinkled his brow. This wasn't exactly the most elegant solution to the problem at hand, but he didn't have very many alternatives at present.

"Sorry about this," he said.

Lucina raised an eyebrow. "Sorry about wh-"

Her words devolved into a startled shriek as Robin unceremoniously spun and threw her into the snowbank.

Before Lucina had even made impact with the snow, Robin was already in motion, intent on keeping the Entombed focused on him. He used _Pass_ to accelerate toward the Risen, slipping past its arm's strike as he drew near. He unsheathed his silver sword and spun, dragging the edge through the viscous, rotten flesh of the creature and severing the appendage. The Risen howled in fury and attacked again, but Robin altered his course with _Acrobat_ this time, leaping until he was directly above the Entombed's head. He bellowed loudly, then dropped like a stone, slicing the Risen open from top to bottom before darting away and landing with a skid.

With a split face spewing miasma, the Entombed teetered back and forth, its remaining arm flopping about erratically. Robin steadied his breath as he watched the creature's death throes; no sense getting careless as long as the beast still had any remaining unlife.

Lucina's head popped out of the snow, and she coughed loudly. The Entombed's separated eyes flared brightly.

Robin scowled. "Ah, hell."

The Entombed lashed out its arm at a blisteringly quick speed, aimed directly at Lucina. Cursing loudly, Robin cast aside his sword and activated Pass, putting the whole of his concentration into attempting to outrace the limb. Evading the attack himself would have been a simple matter, but in order to reach Lucina and get her out of harm's way he would have to maintain _Pass_ for a far longer length than it was meant to be sustained. He gritted his teeth as he decided that he was left with no choice but to employ a trick he wasn't particularly fond of: he used _Acrobat_ from within _Pass_ , a compounded action whose exponentially-modified toll would claim almost all of his considerable stamina.

The sudden burst of momentum was intense and dizzying; it took all of Robin's concentration to not plow directly into Lucina, something that would have reduced the both of them into a red smear at this speed. As the world flew by and he overtook the Entombed's limb, he angled himself to land in the snowbank, suddenly popping out of his magically enhanced movement and gracelessly slamming into the white mound. The cold was shocking, all-encompassing, and biting, but he didn't have time to be dazed. He called on the absolute last dregs of his strength and forced himself to use _Pass_ again, springing out of the snow. He caught sight of a visibly confused Lucina, which prompted him to dash forward toward her with every bit of speed that he could muster. He threw out his arms and all but tackled her, knocking her off her feet instants before the Entombed's attack would have connected. He felt a dull force momentarily press against his back, and then reality returned to its normal dimensions, and he and Lucina both went tumbling to land sprawled face-down in the snow.

They lay there for some moments as the Entombed howled at its failure, the red lights of its eyes dying out as it disintegrated completely into ash.

Wearily, Robin dragged himself to a kneel, spluttering and spitting ice from his mouth. "Y-You alright, Lucina?" he called out, utterly exhausted.

To his relief, her response was immediate. She staggered to a stand, stared at him, and then promptly threw up.

Still winded from his exertions and the successive collisions, Robin struggled to his own feet, gratefully taking note that Kjelle seemed to have also escaped major injury, as she was just now getting up as well. It was fortunate that the Entombed had knocked her as far away as it had; Robin had been having enough difficulty without having to fend for her as well.

He turned his attention back to the princess, who was bent over and catching her breath now. "A-Again, s-sorry about that," he apologized, having difficulty speaking without his body interrupting him with coughing fits.

Lucina wiped her mouth. "Y-You... are Robin of Ylisse, famed Grandmaster Tactician... And _that_ was the best plan you could come up with?!" she asked in disbelief.

"H-Hey! It worked, didn't it!" he retorted indignantly. "We're still alive, right?"

Lucina's irritation held for a moment, but then she took a deep breath to compose herself, and stood up straight. "...Yes, that's true. I suppose a brief indignity is a more than fair price for my life." She cleared her throat, then gave a glowing, genuine smile. "Brusqueness of your methods aside, it seems I am once more in your debt. Thank you, Robin."

Robin looked at her for a moment, then turned away, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. "Don't mention it." He made to take a step, but a wave of lightheadedness swept over him, and he nearly toppled over.

Lucina's eyes widened in alarm as she caught sight of his back. "Robin! You're bleeding!"

Robin blinked, then placed a hand on his back, withdrawing it to find it slicked with blood. "Huh. So I am. You know, I had kind of forgotten that I could _do_ that."

"L-Let me stitch it up!" Lucina said frantically, digging through her supply pouch.

Robin waved a hand. "Don't worry, I have the materials right here." He reached into the coat pocket he had designated for medical supplies, withdrawing a needle, thread, and rubbing alcohol. He ran his fingers over the edges of a Fire tome, then ignited a small ball of fire over his index finger. He used this to sanitize the metal before handing it off to Lucina.

Kjelle stumbled over to them as Lucina inspected Robin's wounds. They were shallow, but had come alarmingly close to his spine. She uncapped the rubbing alcohol, then carefully poured it onto Robin's back, causing the tactician to hiss sharply.

"Unreal," the knight breathed. "How did you take down an Entombed by yourself?! I'd have never believed it if I hadn't just seen it!"

Robin shrugged as Lucina readied the needle. "Eh, that was nothing. Chrom once— _owowowowOW_ —once took down three of those things without help." He pointed a finger at the knight. "Hell, the other versions of you _both_ could handle Entombed without much trouble. Even for Risen, they're pretty stupid. It's a pain that tomes do jack-shit to them, but they're not really an issue until you start having to handle multiples simultaneously."

"H-How many do you think you could deal with at once?" Kjelle asked in awe.

Robin raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "Four? Five would probably be pushing it."

Lucina paused her needlework so that she and Kjelle could share a look of incredulity.

Robin waved a hand. "Don't get worked up about this. Entombed aren't what you should be focusing on. They only seem like a problem because you two can't use _skills_ yet. Anyone who knows _Pass_ or _Acrobat_ or _Galeforce_ or whatever could take those things down easily. You can start worrying when we go up against Deadlords or people like Walhart and Yen'fay." He frowned and began to scratch his chin. "Still... Now that I think about it, something's off about all this. I might need to bump up your training schedules in a hurry."

Kjelle became alert. "Bump up? You mean we're finally going to start doing stuff besides sparring and physical conditioning?"

Robin's expression was dark, and focused elsewhere. "We might not have a choice. I wanted you two to get a stronger baseline before we moved on to _skills_ , but this incident changes things. This is far, far too soon for Entombed to be showing up; two years early at the least. Something is very wrong here. I don't know what, but _something_ is happening, and it's not good."

Lucina smiled as she set to closing the next talon-wound. "Well, as long as you're here, I think we needn't worry."

Robin bit his thumbnail, a troubled look on his face.

"It's not you two who should be worried."

* * *

Lon'qu knelt to refill his waterskin in a spring. The group Khan Basilio had assigned him to was about to enter into the deserts (spirits knew why), and he had no desire to suddenly find himself succumbing to thirst. His waterskin had been three-fourths full to begin with, but better prepared than caught unaware.

There came a rustling noise from the foliage to his right, and he paused. His hand slowly drifted to his sword's pommel; cautiously, he peaked over his shoulder. If this was a bandit, then it was a foolish one, given the carelessness of the approach. The rustling continued, and a figure emerged.

Lon'qu stared at her for a moment, immediately wishing that he had been fortunate enough to have encountered a problem he could simply cut down and be done with.

Reflet, the outfit's tactician, smiled brightly and waved. "Hi! You must be Lon'qu, right?" She took a step forward.

Lon'qu scrambled to his feet, backpedaling. "St-Stay back!" he spat.

Reflet blinked. "...Sorry?" She looked him over curiously. The swordsman flinched under her scrutiny, and inched further away. She threw up her hands. "Hey, hey, settle down! What are you so worked up about?"

Lon'qu swallowed. "...I do not wish you to approach any further."

Reflet tilted her head in confusion. "Why not? What have I ever done to you?"

"I-It is nothing personal. I just... do not handle the presence of women well."

"Uh..." Reflet took a step back, trying to present herself as non-threateningly as possible. "Ok, ok. Listen, my name is Reflet. I just wanted to ask you a few questions. Can we do that?"

Lon'qu frowned. "...Fine," he acquiesced begrudgingly, his gaze averted from her.

Reflet smiled. "Great. Ok, so before the tournament, you fought a swordsman named Marth, right?"

Lon'qu's eyes bulged, and his face turned stark crimson. "Th-That is no concern of yours!"

Reflet raised an eyebrow. "What? What do you mean? I was just wondering-"

Lon'qu swept his arm wide. "A-Away with you! This conversation is finished!"

Reflet took a step forward, arm extended. "Hold on, I just-"

Lon'qu immediately broke into a sprint, fleeing like his life depended on it.

" _H-Hey!_ Get back here! I'm not-! ...Good _gods_ he's fast."

* * *

Eventually, Reflet had to abandon her efforts to converse with Lon'qu, as the Shepherds were now beginning their foray into the Shifting Sands, and none of the soldiers were permitted to break formation without cause during a march. The first leg of the trip was uneventful, thanks to the detailed directions Robin had provided. The group made it to the first Mirage Village in less than a day, though they elected to spend the night in order to be fully prepared for the next stretch. During this time, Lon'qu proved himself to be infuriatingly evasive, so much so that Reflet suspected that he had opted to sleep beneath a wagon in order to hide from her.

The villagers were accommodating, and explained that bandit sightings had fallen over the last few years, allowing them to be more open with strangers. They did note that they hadn't heard from the neighboring village in some time, and advised caution. Chrom thanked them for their hospitality, and then the Shepherds set out once more.

Reflet had to admit she was somewhat perplexed as the second day's journey began. Around her, her comrades griped about the intolerable heat, yet the tactician didn't feel the same sense of being stifled by the sun that the others complained of. She had once overheard Frederick whisper to Chrom something about her being Plegian; did that have something to do with it? She frowned. It had never occurred to her before now that she had been born someplace other than Ylisse. She wouldn't say that he was overly attached to the country or anything like that, but at the very least, it had become familiar to her, and it seemed even more so to her brother. But then, everything seemed familiar for Robin, as if he was always a few steps ahead of the world.

Reflet blinked, remembering that there was one thing that had seemed to have taken her brother legitimately off-guard: the white tome she carried in her coat's pocket. Just where had her namesake magic come from, if it was unknown even to Robin? Did it originate in Plegia as well? Was that country the place where she could find the answers Robin either wouldn't or couldn't impart to her?

Either way, she was relieved when the second Mirage Village at last came into view, standing out against the twilit dunes, if only for a change of scenery from the interminable sameness of the deserts. The temperature was at this point already starting to take a noticeable dip, and the Shepherds hastened to take shelter, unaware of the settlement's sole occupant awaiting them.

* * *

Laurent was trembling as he squinted from a rooftop at the large group of people (strangers) approaching his village. Were his eyes deceiving him? Was this just yet another illusion conjured by his addled mind? Was it really possible that after all this time, he might finally be saved (set loose)?

He took a breath to steady himself. He needed to temper his expectations (fears). These could be mere bandits. But then, bandits could have their uses (deaths), he considered. Previously, he had been uncertain of his power, and had felt that he could offer little leeway (restraint) in handling bandits. But now, he was significantly stronger. Like this, he could probably overpower (annihilate) these bandits and force them to lead him back to civilization (the mission).

He pressed himself against the wall, eyes fixated on the approaching strangers as he clutched his hand-crafted Arcwind tome to himself.

* * *

Chrom looked about the dilapidated village. "What the hell happened here?" he wondered. "Robin's notes don't make any mention of this place being a ruin..."

"Most likely the result of a bandit attack, milord," Frederick suggested. His expression became stern. "Or worse, perhaps an epidemic. We should consider withdrawing."

"Bandit attack," Reflet decided. She pointed to the charred remnants of a building. "Look. This house obviously burned down. Must have happened during a raid."

"Then we should be on guard," Frederick declared. "We have no means of knowing if or when the perpetrators will return."

"This is where Robin said this Laurent person would be, though..." Chrom murmured.

* * *

Laurent edged closer to the doorway. This was a surprise (complication); these people, judging by their armament and comportment, were no ordinary bandits (deadmen). He was at a slight loss; it had been so long since he had interacted with (spared) other human beings. The rational assumption was that he could simply approach these people and ply them for safe passage out of the Shifting Dunes (Hell). He cleared his throat. Why was he hesitant (terrified)? He couldn't afford to idle his life away here, not when there was so much (Lucina?) at stake. He had everything to gain and nothing to lose.

He went tense as he caught sight of the outfit's leader. It was as if an electric current was coursing through his body, daring him to dispute the claims his eyes laid before him. He recognized that hair (like hers). He recognized that sword (fang). But most of all he recognized that brand (eye). This man was Chrom, the prince of Ylisse. And if that was the case...

The realization struck him like lightning. His eyes roved throughout the soon-to-be-Exalt's subordinates before finally settling upon one woman in particular, who sported spectacles and the very same hat that he wore.

His eyes watered.

 _Mother._

 _MotherMotherMotherMOTHER._

His father was close-by as well, wearing the olive-colored armor that matched his hair. Unsurprisingly, he held the same easy-going expression in his youth that he would go on to maintain even in the face of the horrors brought on by the Day of Grima.

Laurent took a tremulous step forward, for one instant the child he had been before his world had been torn out from under him.

Then he stopped himself, and stood up straight.

These were not his parents (echoes). They did not yet have a son. It did not in fact matter if they ever did, so far as the fate of humanity itself was concerned. To fixate on them would be selfish (wonderful), and also short-sighted (impractical). If the Day of Grima dawned (fell) once more, then these people would meet the same fates that his parents had (expendable). For now, with the given data available to him, he had no option but to operate under the assumption that only he could change the tides of destiny. Aside from perhaps Lord Chrom, Laurent was left with no choice but to prioritize his own survival over those of each of the Shepherds (pawns). He would not even approach his parents; he would refrain from embracing them, no matter how painful this forgoing would be. It was difficult (agonizing), but he steeled himself. There was too much (everything) at stake for him to not restrain himself, to not keep his emotions clutched tight to his breast. It would not be easy, to be sure, but he could do it. He could keep his parents at arm's length, and not be swayed by his impulses.

Then he caught sight of her (devil), and nearly lost himself to fury.

The white-haired tactician was looking about, analyzing the village, standing as close to Chrom as she would when she would serve as his hand. Laurent's eyes burned, and his fingers ran along the pages of his Arcwind tome (judgment). There was still the technicality (nuisance) of finding proof of the girl's (dragon's) treachery, but he was well past the point where he cared about something like that. He could put an end to all of this here and now.

He would strike quickly and decisively. He-

...No. This was rash. There still existed a small chance (impossibility) that the tactician was not the Heart of Grima. It was not a moral constraint that stayed Laurent's hand here; it was a matter of practicality. If he killed her now, he would never be able to convince the Shepherds to lead him back to safety. In this case, if the Heart really was someone else (whom?), then Laurent would be unable to locate and dispose of them from this prison (hell). Much as it grated on him to risk letting such a chance pass by, prudence dictated that he court the Shepherds as an ally, and wait for an opportune moment to assassinate the girl once he was back in Ylisse (home).

It nettled him, making this decision. It was not often that his emotions ran contrary to reason. Still, his path (ordainment) was clear.

He took a deep breath, and stepped out into the open.

* * *

Reflet blinked, then tugged on her leader's sleeve. "Chrom, look!" she whispered.

The prince followed her line of sight, eyebrows rising as he noticed a tall man in an odd hat slowly stepping out from a nearby building. He wore scratched glasses, his clothes were ragged, and his face was gaunt.

Chrom cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Hello there! Would you happen to Laurent?"

The man went rigid, eyes bulging. He opened his mouth and seemed to attempt to say something, but no intelligible noise came forth. He scowled and worked his mouth before giving a long, hacking cough. He took a deep breath, then attempted to speak again.

"...Yes."

His voice was hoarse like sandpaper, as if he were unaccustomed to using it. Indeed, his expression showed the difficulty with which he was speaking.

Chrom smiled. "Ah, that's a relief. I am Chrom, prince of Ylisse. I've come here to seek you out."

Laurent narrowed his eyes. "..."Seek"?" he questioned.

"Robin and Marth sent me," Chrom replied.

Quick emotions flickered across Laurent's face; first abject confusion, then pleasant surprise.

Chrom reached into his pocket and produced a sealed missive. "Here, Marth wrote this for you."

Laurent's eyes grew wide, and he all but snatched the paper out of Chrom's hand, tearing it open and fervently skimming its contents. After nearly a minute he lowered the parchment, his expression a mask.

"...Curious," he murmured. It was evident from his eyes that he had left volumes unsaid, and would have done so even if his oral faculties had been fully available to him. He held the letter up to the light, seeming to scrutinize the words written upon it.

"Something wrong?" Chrom asked.

Laurent was silent for a moment, then shook his head. He suddenly fixed his gaze on Reflet, eyes sharp and piercing. "...Name?" he asked.

Reflet was caught off-guard by this, and was somewhat unnerved by the man's intensity, but she answered promptly. "Reflet."

Laurent stared at her for some moments, then sighed. "...Troublesome." He rolled up the parchment, then slipped it into one of his pockets. He turned back to Chrom and wordlessly extended his hand.

Chrom blinked in surprise, then smiled and shook. "Ah! Can I take this to mean you're joining us?"

Laurent nodded.

Chrom put his hands on his hips. "Well then, we'll make camp here for the night, then head out to the next Mirage Village in the morning."

Laurent raised an eyebrow. "...Next?"

"We're going to find the Goddess Staff, you see," Chrom explained. "Or so Robin claims, at least."

Laurent looked away, seeming to consider something. "...Interesting." He suddenly pointed to his left. "Water." He pointed to the houses next. "Shelter." With that, he silently turned and began to make his way to the largest house in the village.

"...Strange fellow, huh?" Chrom murmured once Laurent was out of earshot.

Reflet rubbed her arms, shivering as she recalled the man's cold and calculating eyes. "I'll say..."

* * *

Laurent did not sleep.

He spent the entire night scouring the letter that Lucina (Lucina!) had sent him, until he was absolutely confident that this was in fact her handwriting (verified), until he had become sure that the strange things she spoke of ( _male_ Robin?) were not a cipher of some fashion.

Ordinarily, this should have been a joyous development. However, this companion (rival?) Lucina wrote of gave him pause. A man who had slain Grima? A man whose claims corroborated Laurent's independent postulations on the nature of time travel (non-linear!)? Obviously, the logical assumption would be that this man was a saboteur who had managed to deceive Lucina. Still, the fact that it was this Robin's direction that had led the Shepherds to Laurent did give some credibility to the notion that he was acting as a benefactor. If this Robin was an enemy agent, it would have been in his interests to allow Laurent to continue rotting away here, and likely even outright murder the princess. Perhaps he had forced her into writing this letter under duress? But to what end would such an action serve?

Laurent shook his head. For now, this was a quandary that was best shelved until later. If this Robin truly did know the location of the Goddess Staff and had granted this information to Chrom, then that would certainly suggest favorably toward his trustworthiness. Either way, Laurent did not have enough information available to make an informed decision, and even if he had, he would have had no means of acting on it.

What vexed him about this situation was "Reflet". Lucina had made little mention of the woman save for her changed name and her relation to the male Robin. Did she not realize the strong possibility (certainty) that Reflet was the Heart of Grima?

Laurent's eyes shot wide. If "Reflet" was the Heart of Grima, then wouldn't that mean that "Robin" was one too?

This was a startling idea (fear), and it did nothing but to cement Laurent's belief that he lacked the data he needed to make an optimal decision. For now, he would have to bide his time and refrain making hasty movements (murders). His utmost priority, at the moment, was to reunite with Lucina and unravel the mystery of "Robin" (Grima?).

He held the letter to his chest (heart). The game was beginning in earnest now. He understood that sacrifices would be necessary to achieve victory, but that didn't mean that they were preordained (foreseen). If he played correctly, he could preserve a maximum of the Shepherds (pieces). He could save Miriel (Mother). He could save Stahl (Father).

He could save Lucina.

* * *

Reflet stretched her arms as she yawned loudly, squinting at the morning sunlight. As usual, being awake this early was something she found exceedingly unpleasant, but she had little choice in the matter. According to Robin's notes, due to how the ancient enchantments over the Shifting Dunes functioned, the last two Mirages Villages could both be reached within the same day, provided an early enough start was taken. Their procession was making smooth progress, and spirits were generally high as the desert's heat had yet to reach its standard sweltering.

Laurent rode a few yards behind her, visibly uncomfortable and awkward atop a horse (Robin had thought ahead and instructed the Shepherds to bring a spare for Laurent). It seemed he had very little experience riding. He had kept to himself, mostly, only speaking brief words when spoken too, and sometimes not even then. Reflet frowned as she clutched the reins of her own mount. Laurent was an oddity to be sure, but it wasn't the surface strangeness that put her on edge around him. There was something deeper, something his eyes only barely hinted toward. Still, he had Robin's endorsement, which had to mean something, she supposed.

After a few hours of travel, they began to draw near to the third Mirage Village. Laurent was the first to notice something was amiss.

"Risen," he hissed, only barely heard by the surrounding Shepherds. Moments later, Reflet caught sight of the monsters as well, who were shambling around outside boarded-up buildings and barricaded streets.

"...Ah, hell," the tactician murmured, feeling that repulsive cloying sensation run up her spine. With some detachment, she made note of Chrom's cry for battle formation with, and immediately spurred her steed to his side.

"What's your read, Reflet?" he asked.

Reflet scanned the small horde, which had only just taken note of the Shepherds' presence and were beginning to bound toward them. "...Nothing unusual, it seems. I mean, as long as you don't count those things being out here for gods know what reason. Standard practices should cover this just fine."

Chrom nodded, then began barking orders.

"Incorrect," a voice rasped from behind her. Reflet nearly jumped out of her saddle, then spun to face the source.

Laurent simply stared at her with a blank expression, then pointed toward the village. Reflet turned her head back to settlement, then gasped in horror as she caught sight of what Laurent had been referring to. A bear-like Risen Chief strode out into view, the same class as the monster that had attacked the group at the river crossing.

"O-Oh no," Reflet breathed, trembling. This was a very dangerous development; with mobility reduced by the sand, the-

Her thought cut out abruptly as Laurent spurred his steed into a rough gallop, exacerbated by both the terrain and his poor handling. By all accounts, he seemed to be directly approaching the Risen Chief.

Reflet blinked in shock. "H-Hey! Wait! What do you think-!"

She was interrupted, though, when the man flipped open a green tome with one hand, and momentarily let go of the reins to aim with the other.

" _Arcwind!_ "

A billowing gale sprang from his palm, sweeping out and encasing the Risen Chief in an instant. Gruesome lacerations tore through the monster, and its pained howls were muted by the buffeting winds. This continued for some moments before the magic dissipated, leaving the disfigured Risen Chief standing teetered for a moment, then collapsed into plumes of ash and miasma.

Reflet stared in disbelief. Before she could even marshal her thoughts, though, Laurent was in motion again. Having dismounted, he was now sprinting toward more Risen as he tore through them with magic far beyond anything the tactician could muster.

Disturbingly, he was laughing like a madman all the while, cackling long and loud enough to carry across the distance.

* * *

It was a short battle, as one-sided affairs tend to be. Hardly any of the Risen had managed to slip past Laurent, and those that had had been dispatched by the Shepherds easily thanks to superior numbers. The mage was now standing by himself, gazing up at the blue sky.

Reflet directed her horse to come to a stop next to him. "...That was, uh, pretty impressive. Did Robin teach you that?"

Laurent raised an eyebrow curiously, as if Reflet had just told him something valuable. "...No." He offered no other words, and didn't look at her.

Reflet cleared her throat. "Uh... Well then... Chrom's checking on the villagers to make sure they're safe. After that I guess we should get a move on, right?"

"...Yes." He made no motion, eyes still fixed on the sky.

"...Ok, then..." Reflet muttered. She shot him a disgruntled glance, then turned her horse around and making her way back to the convoy.

* * *

Once Chrom had confirmed that the settlement hadn't suffered any fatalities, the Shepherds set out again. This portion of the journey seemed to stretch out more intolerably than the others, perhaps because of the aftermath of a battle's adrenaline rush. Regardless, as the sun began to set, the last Mirage Village came into sight.

Or rather, what remained of it.

Chrom collapsed his spyglass. "Gods, how awful..." he grimaced. No building still stood intact, and he hadn't caught sight of a single living being.

"Maybe we should turn back?" Reflet suggested. "I know it sucks to have come all this way for nothing, but perhaps we should just chalk this one up as a loss."

Chrom shook his head. "No. Robin's notes are insistent that the Goddess Staff is hidden in the spring in this village's center."

"What if someone's already taken it?" Reflet questioned.

"Then we'll deal with that problem as it comes. Either way, nightfall will be soon. It's not like we can just turn around. Come on." He spurred his horse forward.

Reflet sighed, and did the same.

* * *

They dismounted just shy of the village's perimeter, and began to scout on foot, grouped into small and tight formations. Everywhere they looked, they found no sign of prior human life **—** only broken boards and sandy floors. There weren't even skeletons to be seen.

"Th-This is kinda creepy," Stahl muttered as he eyed an abandoned home.

Miriel adjusted her glasses. "Do not fall prey to base superstition, Stahl. Vacant buildings pose no threat to us."

"I'm more worried by _what_ caused them to become vacant," the cavalier replied.

Behind them, Laurent marched stone-faced.

After the reconnaissance groups reconvened, the collective determination was that the village was completely deserted.

Chrom scratched his chin. "Alright. We'll grab the Staff, then break camp on the outskirts of the settlement, with our backs to that collapsed building to the west."

"We have yet to thoroughly investigate the spring itself," Frederick noted. "I would advise a fully-manned group."

"Seconded," Reflet added.

Chrom nodded. "Fine with me. We'll go with myself, you two, our new friend Laurent, Stahl, Sully, Miriel, and Lon'qu. Everyone else will guard the convoy and wait on standby in case we need backup for whatever reason."

All gave their agreement, and the Shepherds split into the designated groups. The exploratory party slowly made their way to the spring, fanning out to provide maximum coverage for Chrom as he stooped by the waters.

"Now then... I think it's supposed to be-"

He abruptly fell silent as his eyes locked with those of another. Gleaming ruby-like flares burned from within a soaked sackcloth, which was just barely poking out of the lake's center.

"What the...?" the prince murmured.

Laurent narrowed his eyes. "Revenant," he declared matter-of-factly as he pulled out a tome with the same confidence that he would have if he had been facing a generic Risen soldier.

There were ripples in the lake, and the masked figure began to rise from its depths as it approached the shore.

And it kept rising, until a massive, sickly gold form towered over the group.

Chrom's jaw dropped.

Reflet felt her chest constrict.

Laurent's eyes widened, and he involuntarily stepped backward as he realized his mistake in identifying the Risen's species. He swallowed dryly before correcting himself.

"...Entombed."

 _(Fuck.)_


	14. Shadows in the Sand II

Robin crossed his arms, wincing as the motion caused his back-wounds to flare briefly. He looked over Lucina and Kjelle, who were standing before him at attention. "Alright," he began, his breath visible in the winter air. "It's time I taught you two how to use skills. Skills are advanced abilities that amplify the body's capabilities by tapping into your natural magic's pathways. Anyone can use skills, even people without a propensity for magecraft, though that certainly helps. What _kind_ of skills a person can use, however, varies with the individual." He pointed a finger at the princess. "For example, you, Lucina, would most likely be more comfortable using _Galeforce_ as your enhanced movement skill, rather than my _Pass_."

She grimaced. "I can't imagine that not being the case."

Robin moved his finger over to Kjelle. "As for you, you probably aren't inclined to use movement skills _at all_ , and would be better served learning skills that fortify your body, such as _Pavise_ and _Aegis_."

Kjelle frowned. "Why can't I just learn a movement skill anyway on top of those?"

Robin smiled. "Good question!" He extended out his arm and rolled back his sleeve. "Skills aren't easy to learn. They require a serious commitment." He furrowed his brow in concentration, and after a moment, his veins began to glow with a faint light.

The women widened their eyes.

Robin allowed the effect to end. "Now, your body won't actually do that when you're using skills," he said, rubbing his temple. One of his eyes had screwed shut. "That was just something I did for the purpose of illustration. You see, in order to learn how to use a skill, you effectively have to carve that skill's determined path out through your magic channels through repetition. And you only have so many magic channels, so that puts a hard cap on how many skills you can wield at a time. That's why it's important to figure out which skills you're best suited for, because the better a skill fits you, the less strain it puts on your magic channels, and thus, your body."

"How would we determine that, though?" Lucina questioned.

"Ordinarily, by feel," Robin answered. "First, I'm going to have to show you two how to sense the entirety of your magic channels. After that, I'll begin teaching you what skills I know, or what we can find in old books, and after that, you should be able to tell pretty quickly if a skill is a good match for you."

"Sounds like a bunch of shots in the dark to me," Kjelle muttered.

Robin smiled and waved a finger. "That's why I said "ordinarily". Don't forget, I have foreknowledge. I can guess pretty accurately what skills you two can learn, especially since Lucina has the same set of parents in this world."

Kjelle looked at the princess, quirking an eyebrow. "What's he talking about?"

Lucina coughed. "I'll explain later."

Robin clapped his hands, drawing their attention back to him. "That's why we're going to start with _Luna_. It's a pretty simple skill, and it's one you two can learn at the same time. Generally, I would prefer to prioritize teaching the two of you skills with more utility, but this should be a good starting point. As a bonus, Lucina, it'll be a stepping stone for you to eventually learn _Aether_."

Lucina's brows shot up. " _Aether_?! Father's technique?!"

"That's right," Robin nodded. "In fact, there's a decent chance you'll figure it out before _he_ does," he laughed.

" _Luna_ sounds fine, but can we get a demonstration?" Kjelle asked.

Robin upturned his palms. "Oh, I actually never bothered to learn how to use _Luna_."

Kjelle stared at him blankly.

Robin smirked. "And that's because I have a _better_ offensive skill. Now _that_ , I'll be more than happy to give a showing of. Consider yourselves privileged, because you're about to be the first people in this world to witness _Ignis_!"

" _Ignis_?" Lucina echoed in surprise. "I've never heard of that skill before."

"Me neither," Kjelle added.

"Well of course you haven't. I _invented_ it," Robin grinned. He pulled out his Thoron tome. "Now watch, and be ama-!" He abruptly fell silent, blinking.

"Is... Is something wrong, Robin?" Lucina asked.

Robin dropped the tome, staring at his hands in confusion. "What the... Why isn't it working? What's going on here?"

Kjelle raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were going to give us a showing. A real privilege."

Robin ignored the jab, as he was occupied with thoroughly inspecting his body. His eyes suddenly fell on the back of his right hand. "Oh...!" he gaped.

"Robin...?" Lucina repeated, some concern in her voice now.

He looked up at her. "It's fine, it's just... Well, I guess now I know why I wasn't ever able to teach anyone else _Ignis_. It looks like it might have been dependent on my connection to Grima. Now that that's gone, I guess my physiology must have changed or something, and my body isn't capable of using _Ignis_ anymore."

Lucina tilted her head. "I... see?"

Kjelle narrowed her eyes. "Connection to Grima?"

Robin waved a hand. "Don't worry about it, it's not important anymore. That Grima's dead, I killed him, et cetera, et cetera." He seemed mildly despondent. "...Godsdammit, this _sucks_! You two have no idea what you're missing! _Ignis_ is so _cool_!"

Kjelle turned her head toward Lucina. "Are we _sure_ that this guy isn't crazy?"

Lucina gave a nervous laugh.

There was a loud noise, and both of them whipped their heads back toward Robin, who had dropped to his knees in the snow, clutching at his head.

"Robin?!" Lucina shouted, immediately rushing to his side.

The tactician's face was contorted. "I'm... I'm fine," he murmured. He forced himself to a stand, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Just a... Just a headache. I'll be alright."

This didn't dispel Lucina's unease.

Robin took a deep breath, and managed to fully compose himself. "Ok you two. Clear away some snow, and sit down. You're about to learn how to properly meditate."

The women did as instructed, but all the while, Lucina kept sneaking furtive glances at Robin. Something was off about his bearing now, as if he was putting on a front, as if his discomfort hadn't actually disappeared, and he was merely hiding it.

* * *

The Entombed lumbered out of the spring, water cascading off of its golden flesh.

" _Run_ ," Laurent said flatly.

The others didn't need convincing. All of the Shepherds present turned and began a frantic retreat.

All of them save for Reflet, who remained rooted where she was, paralyzed with fear.

Chrom noticed almost instantaneously, the tactician's absence from his side apparent within a mere handful of footfalls. " _Reflet!_ " he yelled, horrified. He skidded to a stop and drew Falchion, cursing himself for forgetting his tactician's crippling aversion to the undead.

At this moment, Frederick noticed his liege's absence, and he too came to a halt. "Milord!" he bellowed.

The Entombed tilted its head, looking down to meet Reflet's numb gaze. It lethargically lifted one of its hands into the air, the tendril-like arm swaying in the sky.

Beads of sweat rolled down Reflet's brow, but her legs obstinately refused to work.

Panic was seizing Chrom; the talons were falling now, and he was too slow, too far away. He would never-

" _Arcwind._ "

Laurent rocketed past him, propelled by the force of his wind magic. He landed roughly, looping his arm around Reflet's waist in an instant.

" _Idiot,_ " the mage hissed before shouting his spell incantation again, the burst of wind only barely carrying the two out of range before the Entombed's arm slammed into the sand.

Chrom stared wide-eyed at Laurent. "You-"

" _Run!_ " Laurent repeated to him and Frederick loudly, as if he were reprimanding disobedient children.

Chrom blinked, then nodded and fell into step, at which point Frederick did as well.

The Entombed slowly turned its head, processing that its prey was escaping. It was motionless for a moment, red eyes gleaming through sackcloth.

Laurent scowled as he looked behind himself. He turned his attention back to Chrom. "Catch!" he called.

Chrom raised an eyebrow. "Wha- Whoa what the hell?!" he shouted as Laurent unceremoniously threw Reflet at the prince, who fumbled and nearly dropped her.

Free from the weight, Laurent pivoted and turned just as the Entombed's arm came barreling toward them. He calculated for a moment, then stuck out his hand at an angle. " _Arcwind!_ "

The spell caught the Risen's hand on its side, diverting the attack's course. However, as Laurent had expected, even his Arc-class magic failed to so much as scratch the Entombed's dense, magically resilient hide.

The mage didn't waste time trying to further gauge the efficacy of his attack, instead immediately turning and sprinting away.

* * *

This was idiocy (lunacy). Laurent silently cursed himself as he ran (fled). Why in the name of any of the gods (bedtime stories) had he risked his life to save the Heart? He couldn't have asked for a better coincidence (set-up) than this. If the girl had been killed then and there by the Entombed (irony?), then there was a high probability that he would have witnessed the end of the Heart of Grima, and none of the blame (credit) would have fallen on his shoulders. Every impediment that had kept him from killing the girl on sight would have been rendered irrelevant by what would have amounted to little more than a freak accident. Even if he was wrong about her (laughable), he would still have a chance to find the _true_ Heart of Grima and dispose of that person. By no rational metric had he made the correct decision in saving Reflet's life.

And that was what vexed Laurent. He had not moved on conscious thought; his choices had been entirely reactionary and emotionally-driven. Had it been because he had been primed to innately prioritize the rescue of any (precious) (useful) human life threatened by a Risen? Or was it something even more underlying than that? Was it simply part of his nature (weakness) that he couldn't bear to witness a death he could prevent? Hadn't he already killed (lost) that part of himself, along with the bandits?

Laurent glared at the woman carried in Chrom's arms. Even now, she was a jeopardy to the world's future (salvation). Chrom was being slowed by her weight (burden), and that increased the non-negligible risk that he would fall far enough behind to stray into the Entombed's range (death).

 _Why_ had Laurent saved her? He couldn't wrap his mind around it, no matter how hard he tried.

There came a bellow (reminder) behind him, and Laurent shifted his focus back to the predicament at hand. He could castigate himself later.

And more importantly, he could always kill Reflet later.

* * *

Reflet took a deep breath, clutching Chrom's sleeve tightly. The tension throughout her body had lessened; it didn't feel like she was seizing up anymore.

"Chrom, put me down. I'm a liability like this."

The prince blinked. "Umm..." he began, glancing over his shoulder at the Entombed.

"Just do it, I'll be ready to run as soon as I'm on the ground. You're lagging too much right now."

Chrom frowned, but nodded. He slowed until he had stopped completely, then planted Reflet on her feet. A moment later the two were running after the rest of the Shepherds through the ruined houses, the desert sprawling out ahead of them, where the remainder of the unit and their horses were waiting.

"Do you have a plan?" Chrom asked.

"Working on it." She looked toward Laurent, who had been able to identify the Risen's species. "Hey! Laurent!"

He met her gaze, but didn't respond.

"Can we beat that thing?" Reflet called.

"Improbable," he replied bluntly.

Chrom coughed. "Uh, Reflet? I don't know how this figures into your framework, but _that thing_ 's gaining on us."

Reflet's eyes widened, and a quick peek confirmed that the Entombed was now bounding after them. She instantly increased her pace, fearful that she might be afflicted by her necrophobia again if she allowed the Risen to draw too close.

"Laurent!" she panted. "Can that Risen track its targets by anything other than sight?"

The mage furrowed his brow. "...No!"

"So if we blind it, that'll slow it down, right?"

His eyes widened, and he drew his Arcwind tome. "Yes!"

Laurent changed course, turning and running back toward the Entombed as the others passed by him. He gritted his teeth as the monster drew near, then just before it would have come close enough to skewer him with its talons, he flipped open his tome.

He swept his hand out over the ground. " _Arcwind!_ "

The spell kicked up a cloud of sand, swirling it in a spiral and then carrying it directly toward the Entombed. The grains pelted the creature with no immediate effect, but more and more of the sand blew into the Risen's eyes. Eventually, the Entombed came to a halt, screeching eerily as it shook back and forth, shimmering like a mirage as it tried to dislodge the irritants from its eyes.

Laurent allowed himself a small smirk of triumph, then beat a hasty retreat. He was all too aware that this was nothing more than a distraction. If this had bought them all even half a minute's time, then it would be a miracle.

Reflet grinned at him as he caught up with the group. "Great work! If we keep this up, that dumbass'll-"

One of the Entombed's arms came flying out of the dust, smashing through three buildings like they were kindling.

Reflet's legs nearly buckled. " _Runrunrunrun!_ " she screamed as debris flew through the air.

Laurent fixed his eyes ahead of him. He believed Reflet to be overreacting; as things were progressing, it was likely that they would reach the horses before falling back within range of the Entombed, and once they were mounted, safe escape would be a triviality.

Then Miriel tripped, and the whole of Laurent's analysis went to shit.

* * *

Laurent screeched to a complete standstill.

 _MotherMotherMotherMOTHER!_

"Miriel!" Stahl (Father) called. He seemed about to double back, ready to risk (throw away) his life.

"Abandon me!" Miriel shouted as the Entombed emerged from the cloud of sand. "Flee with all haste! You do nothing to increase my rate of survival and only diminish your own!"

Silently, Laurent acknowledged that Miriel (Mother) was correct. Statistically, charging the Entombed was beyond foolish (abjectly suicidal).

He gritted his teeth. To hell with statistics. To hell with logic and rationality. To hell with his (faux) cold detachment. These were his parents, and he would not lose them a second time. He readied his tome.

And then all at once, he registered that Reflet (Grima?!) was running past him, her own (white?!) tome held open.

" _Reflet!_ " she shouted, and a barrier sprang to life just as the Entombed's claw came shooting toward the prone scientist. The claws skated off the glossy, shining barrier, which managed to hold under the immense force for a moment before cracks ran up the pane's length and the prism shattered. Beads of light formed and burst against the Risen's skin without effect.

Laurent stared wide-eyed. What the hell was going on?

"C-Come on, y-you bastard!" Reflet stammered at the Entombed. "R-Robin hits harder than _that_!"

Laurent was rooted to the spot. This was unfathomable (incomprehensible). What on earth was that (light?!) magic that had been used just now? How could the _Heart of Grima_ of all beings use _light_ magic? It boggled the mind. What's more, _why would Grima's Heart (Reflet) risk her life to save his mother_?

He shook his head. When he opened his eyes next, they were alight, burning with determination.

He didn't need to understand. If the Heart of Grima wanted to help him save his parents, then that (deal with the devil) was fine by him.

* * *

Stahl rushed to Miriel's side, crouching down next to her. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Miriel winced. "I have suffered a minor sprain to my right ankle. It is a negligible injury. Ordinarily, it would slightly hamper my ability to walk for two-point-four days on average, but the balance of probability suggests that this is an inaccurate prognosis, given the current likelihood that I will be deceased and dismembered before the sprain becomes a relevant factor."

"Don't talk like that," Stahl said firmly as another claw shot was deflected by Reflet's barrier spell. He took Miriel by the arm and hoisted her up, supporting her with his shoulder. "Mostly because we don't have the time, but also because I'm getting you out of here."

"Th-That's great and all, but I don't think I c-can keep this up much longer!" Reflet shouted.

The Entombed was beginning to regain its visibility, and its attacks were becoming more frequent and more accurately targeted. Reflet was already struggling to keep pace, and the closer the behemoth drew, the less reaction time she was granted.

Suddenly Laurent was standing by her side. "Untenable," he said quietly.

"You think I don't know that?!" Reflet snapped.

Laurent glanced at her. "Plan?" he asked.

Reflet thought for a moment. "...It looks like magic doesn't work on that thing. Am I right?"

"Regrettably."

Reflet bit her thumb, then pointed to a piece of sandstone that had been knocked loose from one of the buildings. "Think you can make do with that?"

Laurent processed her meaning for a moment. A grin slowly formed on his face.

"Ingenious."

* * *

Chrom gaped. "What the hell are they doing?!"

Frederick could already tell where this was going. "Milord, I regret to say that we must cut our losses. If-"

"Not a chance," Chrom interrupted flatly. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Sully! Lon'qu! We're going to back them up!" He faced his Knight Commander. "C'mon, Frederick."

"Fine," Lon'qu said simply before turning around.

"Ah hell!" Sully whined. "We are dead, we are _dead_ , we are so frickin' dead!"

Nonetheless, she came back to Chrom's side as well.

A vein pulsed in Frederick's forehead. "Milord, I am not a craven. I do not fear for my own life. But I would dishonor my duty by allowing you to pursue such a foolish course!"

Chrom gave him a hard look. "Well, I'm going no matter what you say. You want to protect me, then I guess you don't have any option but to follow."

Frederick's lip twitched. "I can only hope you someday grow out of this habit of recklessly endangering yourself."

Chrom grinned insolently. "Let's focus on surviving this day first."

* * *

"Any year now, Laurent!" Reflet cried out, her defense becoming more and more frantic as the Entombed's strikes came closer to landing home.

Laurent had removed his glasses, holding up the chunk of sandstone to one eye, the other scrunched up as he aimed. His Arcwind tome was clutched in his free hand. "Adjusting..." he murmured.

" _Well adjust faster!_ "

An arm came swinging at an angle Reflet hadn't expected. The tactician gasped. "Oh, shi-"

Frederick's and Sully's lances slammed into the limb, the full force of their wielders' bodies put into the counter. It wasn't enough to dampen the Entombed's force completely, though, and the weapons snapped shortly before the arm carried on and knocked the knights off of their feet to land a short distance away.

Frederick coughed as he and Sully pushed themselves back up. "Damn...! That was my silver lance, too!"

The Entombed's arm lay in the sand now. The monster attempted to reel it back in, but an instant before it could, Chrom and Lon'qu had both cut deep rends into the flesh with their swords.

Lon'qu scowled. "Not good enough," he grunted.

The Entombed keened in anger, but successfully withdrew its appendage.

Reflet breathed a sigh of relief. The odds of survival still weren't good, but at least they weren't abysmal now.

Lon'qu fell back to the tactician's side, Killing Edge held at ready.

Reflet raised an eyebrow. "What happened to your gynophobia?"

"It would seem we can both overcome our respective conditions when the heat of battle necessitates it," he replied without turning to look at her.

"Can you even call this a battle?" Reflet laughed nervously. She turned her attention back toward Laurent. "Come on, Laurent, how much longer-" Her eyes shot wide. "Ah hell!"

An overhead blow came crashing down on Laurent, and was only just barely caught by Reflet's barrier spell. Laurent didn't so much as flinch, even when fissures spread through his protection. He waited steadfastly as the limb was withdrawn, and in the instant that the barrier gave way, in the splint second with which he was given an opening, he flipped open his tome in a one-handed motion.

" _Arcwind!_ "

The spell was dense and localized, with all of its force focused on a specific point: the sandstone Laurent held. He released his grip, and the debris went screaming through the air, directly toward the Entombed's face. It tore into the monster's eye, causing the creature to bellow deafeningly before staggering backward, miasma spewing from its wound.

" _Yes!_ " Reflet crowed, pumping her fists.

Laurent grabbed her by her coat's hood. "Premature," he chided before dragging her into a run.

"Retreat!" Chrom ordered.

The group, including a hobbling Miriel helped along by Stahl, began to put as much distance between themselves and the flailing Entombed as they could, with Reflet occasionally being forced to stave off a haphazard attack flying from the beast.

"Are our comrades deaf?" Frederick growled as they ran toward the desert. "Why haven't we received reinforcements?!"

Laurent swept his arm out to gesture toward the buildings. "Mirage."

Frederick scowled. "That's not how mirages-"

Reflet shook her head. "He means the enchantment surrounding this village might be keeping the sound within from reaching the people outside. As far as the others know, we're perfectly alright."

"...A prudent defensive measure, I suppose," the Knight Commander conceded.

"You would think the Shifting Sands would be enough..." Chrom muttered.

"Regardless, we're wasting time with discussion," Frederick declared. "Come, we must put all of our focusing into hurrying from here as quickly as our legs will carry us."

An ear-piercing shriek suddenly cut through the air.

From a distance they watched the Entombed rise up to its full height. The stitching on its mouth tore open, and a ghastly, uneven circle of teeth, like a lamprey's, spread open. With one last bellow, purple miasma began to be expelled from the Risen's maw, soon surrounding the monster in a deep layer of toxic fog.

Frederick's eyes widened. " _As quickly as our legs will carry us,_ " he emphasized.

"This is fine, this is fine!" Reflet panted as she mentally scrapped the outline of a plan involving Lon'qu getting up to the Entombed's head and delivering a fatal blow. "We can still get away, this doesn't change anything!"

"...What about that?" Lon'qu asked evenly.

Reflet looked back, and to her horror, saw the Entombed contorting itself, its body twisting into a spiral. It abruptly toppled over with a loud impact, its odd shape maintained in spite of the collision. It was motionless for a moment, and then its arms flew forward and anchored their claws into the ground. They strained, and then the Entombed shot forward, miasma trailing behind it.

Laurent's eyes bulged. "Abnormal!" By his tone, it was clear that he greatly wished to elaborate, but lacked the capability to do so.

Tears appeared in the corners of Reflet's eyes as she pushed her body to its utmost limits. Why had they even come to this horrible place?

"Gods _damn_ you, Robin!"

* * *

"This is so _boring_!" Lissa whined, slumped against her horse.

"Now now, darling, I'm sure they'll be back in no time, and then we can be rid of this dreadful scene," Maribelle assured her.

In the blink of an eye, all of the exploration party seemed to pop into existence.

Sumia's eyebrows jumped up. "C-Captain?!"

"Get your asses in gear everyone!" Chrom bellowed. "On the horses, on the double! Big Risen's coming, move it move it move it!"

The Shepherds looked at him as if he had gone mad, but given the urgency in his voice, they promptly obeyed. In less than a minute, all of them were saddled, and a stream of horses was galloping away from the village. By Chrom's orders, the convoy had been left behind in order to maximize speed.

"Ok... We should be safe now, right?" Chrom called to Reflet.

At that moment the Entombed burst into view, sliding through the sand at an inhuman pace. The Shepherds who hadn't been part of the exploration team immediately understood why their leader had been so desperate to leave.

"Don't let up!" Chrom shouted. "It's not as fast as the horses!"

Laurent gritted his teeth. "Irrelevant," he murmured grimly.

Chrom whipped his head toward him. "What do you mean by that?!"

Reflet shared the mage's worry. "We had to leave the convoy behind. That means even if we get away, we won't have water. Either the Entombed will kill us, or the desert will."

Chrom's eyes widened.

Reflet grimaced. "Not to mention there's still the Shifting-"

She suddenly sat upright, looking as if she had been struck by a bolt of lightning. "I've got it!" she shouted exuberantly.

Chrom's eyebrow's arched, and relief swept over his face. "You have a plan?" he asked eagerly.

"Yeah! The Shifting Sands! We can just get the bastard lost in them!"

"Haha! Of course, why didn't I think of that!" Chrom laughed.

The group spurred their horses onward. "Ok, it's going to look like we're going to take a left here, but we'll really be going straight!" Reflet called. "We'll double back for the convoy later!"

As one, the Shepherds banked to the left sharply. There was no visible distinction that they had just been affected by the enchantments of the Shifting Sands, but Reflet was certain that they had passed its threshold.

"Ok! We'll just go through a few more-"

The Entombed appeared behind them, billowing miasma all the while as it propelled itself forward.

"What the hell?! It should have looked like we were going straight, right?!" Chrom questioned. "How'd it know to go left?!"

"...It _didn't_!" Reflet realized numbly. "If that thing's immune to magic, then it could be immune to the desert's enchantments as well! That must be how it was able to find the Mirage Village in the first place!"

"Shit!" Chrom cursed loudly.

Reflet bit her lip. "This is bad, this is very bad. I don't know how many more steps I can remember, and if I mess up, we'll go straight into-" She suddenly became alert. " _That's it_!" she yelled triumphantly.

"What's it?!" Chrom asked.

"You remember how the Shifting Sands had those enchantment traps Robin warned about in his notes? The ones we had to take all those detours to go around?"

Chrom gasped. "The quicksand!"

Reflet pointed a finger at him. " _Exactly_! We just have to-" She abruptly gasped with horror. "Shit! I left the notes back in the convoy! I don't remember the entire sequence! Shit shit _shit_!"

Shock swept over Chrom's face, followed shortly by determination. "Alright. I'll try to act as bait. While I've got that thing distracted, you-"

Laurent's voice cut through. "Unnecessary."

They both turned to look at him.

He tapped a finger to his head. "Memorized."

Reflet gaped at him. "When did you... How did you even...?!"

The mage smirked coyly. "Irrelevant," he repeated.

Reflet stared at him for a moment, and then broke into a wide grin. "Ok! Let's do this!"

* * *

Straight ahead for two hundred and twenty feet. Left for fifty feet. Right for thirty-seven feet. Double back in the opposite direction for eighty. On and on Laurent's instructions came, never more than a single word of direction, the mage silently gauging the distances in his head. Laurent couldn't help but question if all of this would have been beyond him if he had never gone mad (unlikely).

The Entombed (certain death) was slower than the horses, but time was being lost with the constant adjustment of trajectory. This gambit had a palpable risk of failing simply because of variance. Still, Laurent himself had to concede that he could produce no viable alternatives, and was almost (almost) reveling in the Heart's (Reflet's) quick wits and inventiveness. It was clear that her future-past (true) self's reputation as an unrivaled strategic genius hadn't been over-inflated. If not for the tactician (strategist?), it was likely that a number of the Shepherds would already be dead (taken).

Laurent's hypotheses had been completely skewed by this new data, and he understood that as a scientist, he had to accept that data trumped hypothesis every time, regardless of how sound (correct) said hypothesis appeared (was). He had many questions to ponder in the coming days, such as what constituted a person's nature, how supposed amnesia (hogwash) could affect a person's morality, whether or not different versions of a person were in fact separate people, and how all of that factored into the game of humanity's survival (zero-sum).

Operative phrase being "coming days", which could still very well be overly optimistic.

He was confident in the accuracy (totality) of his memory, even given the compounding factor of reversing the sequencing (trivial) and deducing exactly where the detours had been made (less so) in order to circumvent the quicksand.

Laurent couldn't help but smile. He had to admit, he enjoyed this particular game far more than any he had ever played before.

The break-point suddenly made itself evident (manifested) to him, and he hoarsely shouted the order to change course (adjust vectors), followed by two more orders in similar succession.

All at once, he commanded a halt. The Shepherds' mounts skidded to a stop, some coming dangerously close to where Laurent suspected the trap's boundary to be. He swallowed dryly. It was possible that all of this was for naught, that the Entombed's immunity to enchantment would cause it to approach them from the wrong (right) angle.

The Entombed suddenly burst into view, bringing with it a mixture of terror and excitement along with the deadly purple haze it continued to produce. Laurent rather hoped that the sun was causing the lenses of his glasses to flare at this moment; he couldn't help but feel that this would be appropriate.

The Risen threw out its arms, anchoring them in the sand, then rocketed forward like a stone in a sling.

And straight into the trap.

The ground immediately sunk beneath it, collapsing inward in a single instant and dragging the Entombed up to its waist into the sand, far away from where it could hope to reach the Shepherds, too deep for its arms to reach the pit's edge.

Laurent grinned.

" _Checkmate._ "

 _(Nice.)_

His first one-liner. Perhaps he would tell the others (friends) about it, though they would most likely lack the necessary context to appreciate it.

Bewildered, the Entombed shook back and forward, flailing desperately as the sands continued to sink downward, dragging the Risen into their depths.

This was the end. They had done it. Like this, the Entombed would be incapable of ever escaping, and even if it managed, it was losing too much miasma from its thoughtless (instinctual) attempt to poison its prey. The Entombed would expel it all, and then it would die, its reanimated body no longer capable of being sustained.

Beside him, Reflet cheered. He supposed she had a right to; this had been her doing, after all. Her apparent necrophobia (curious) appeared to have been discarded. Not that Laurent could blame her for that, though; they were now well and truly safe from this particular undead.

A sudden gust blew, and Laurent's hat, which had been somewhat dislodged by the commotion of this ordeal, was plucked from his head.

He looked up at it. "Ah."

Calmly, he dismounted and began to walk after the airborne apparel. Someone was saying something, but he paid that little mind.

The hat landed on the lip of the quicksand, and slowly began to slide down. Laurent frowned. That most certainly wouldn't do.

Without thinking, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he stepped into the quicksand.

He smiled in triumph as he reached down and plucked his hat out of the ground, dusting it off cheerily.

Then the Entombed looked at him, and he registered what exactly it was that he had done.

"...Ah."

What an inopportune time for a new aspect of his madness to reveal itself. He wouldn't be fast enough to draw his Arcwind tome now. Even in the unlikely event that he evaded the Entombed's arms, the motion would carry him closer to the poisonous-

" _Reflet!_ "

His vision became distorted by brilliant gem-like panes, and he felt a pair of arms snake around his waist. Through the scintillation, he could see the Entombed's arm flying toward him. It occurred to him that this particular barrier spell was somehow rounded.

All at once, his vision was spinning, and he was flying through the air. The ground was spiraling up toward him, mercifully flat and stable.

He landed roughly, with the barrier spell shattering from the impact and the air pressed out of his lungs. He lay still for a moment, staring up at the shockingly blue sky. Out of his periphery, he could make out the edge of the quicksand pit, and he could hear the frustrated death knells of the Entombed before they gradually succumbed to silence. Evidently (ironically), the Risen's own attack had been part of his salvation; its force had propelled the spherical barrier spell out of the trap, much like how Laurent's own Arcwind had propelled the sandstone.

Beside him, Reflet dragged herself up to a kneel. "Are you..." she panted. She paused a moment, taking a deep breath. " _Are you some kind of moron?!_ " she screamed.

Laurent raised an eyebrow. An apt question, he supposed.

He rose to a stand. He brushed his hat off once more, then replaced it (perfect). Somehow, he was able to calmly accept that the Heart (Reflet)- ...No, Reflet (the Heart) had risked herself for the sake of saving his life. If she was indeed the Heart of Grima, then she was likely one of the worst candidates imaginable, given that she had just thrown herself into toxic, monster-infested quicksand for a stranger. Laurent scratched his head. Logically, he was at an impasse (complete loss). He no longer had any idea what the rational approach to this situation was.

Perhaps it was high time he employed an emotionally-based one.

He looked down on her (literally) (not metaphorically). "Madman," he corrected, doing his best to keep flippancy from his tone.

Reflet arched an eyebrow at him, then she herself stood up. "Is that your idea of a joke?" she growled.

Laurent shook his head somberly.

Reflet frowned. "...Just how long were you in that village, anyway?"

Laurent held up three fingers.

"...Months?" Reflet asked. By her voice, it was obvious that she knew that she was incorrect.

Laurent shook his head again.

Reflet was silent for a moment. "...I see."

Laurent abruptly stuck out his hand. "Thank you," he said simply. It was a strange thing, having genuine gratitude toward the devil (girl).

She blinked, then reached out and shook. "Don't mention it. This just makes us even for earlier." She suddenly chuckled. "Well hey, would you look at that. You just managed concurrent words!"

Laurent's brows shot up. He hadn't even taken note of that himself.

He smiled brightly.

"Yes."

* * *

The return to the Mirage Village was mercifully uneventful. Chrom all but stormed back to the spring as the majority of the Shepherds began setting up camp for the evening.

"Robin and I are going to have a little chat the next time I see him," he muttered menacingly under his breath as he fished his arm through the waters. Eventually, he withdrew the limb, clutching a rusted, worn-looking staff in his grasp.

" _This_? _This_ is what we risked our lives for?!" Reflet groused.

Laurent was wide-eyed. "Magnificent," he breathed.

The two looked at him questioningly.

Laurent could clearly see in his mind's eye the illustrations of the Goddess Staff from back in his basement. He pointed to the handle. "Engravings." He pointed to the decorations. "Arches". He pointed to the large, dull gemstone embedded in the top. "Crystal." He smiled. "Genuine."

Chrom and Reflet looked at each other, then simultaneously shrugged.

"If you say so," Chrom replied as he leaned the Goddess Staff against his shoulder. "Frankly, I'm just sick of this place. Dawn can't come soon enough. If Robin thinks we messed up, then he can come get the right staff his own damn self."

* * *

A village came into view through the falling snow.

"Is that it?" Kjelle called. "Is that where we're supposed to be heading?"

Robin didn't answer. His gaze was distant, and he seemed distracted.

Kjelle frowned. "Hey, Robin, I'm talking to you!"

He jumped, and winced for a moment as his hand went to his forehead. "...Yeah," he murmured, barely audible. "That's where... Few days early... Slavers are going to raid... Have to help the Annas."

Kjelle quirked an eyebrow. "Annas? What the hell do you mean by "the Annas"?"

Robin sighed heavily. "You'll see..." he said quietly.

Lucina eyed him warily. Robin's demeanor was disconcerting. He seemed sluggish, especially given his ordinary brightness. There was something that Lucina was missing, and it unnerved her.

The snow began to fall more heavily.

Kjelle growled as she rubbed flakes out of her eyes. "C'mon, let's pick up the pace. The sooner we get out of this, the better." It was apparent that she didn't care for snowstorms for whatever reason.

Lucina nodded. "It's just a little farther. We-"

There came a loud but muffled noise behind them. Lucina's blood froze in her veins. She immediately spun around.

The tactician lay face-down in the snow, completely still.

Lucina's breath was caught in her throat, shortly before a terrified cry tore past her lips.

" _Robin!_ "


	15. Duty

**AN: Thanks again to TheRepeat for helping with editing.**

* * *

Lucina sat in a room that the village's doctor had been conscientious enough to provide. Before the princess, Robin lay in a small bed, tucked firmly under thick quilted covers. He was sweating profusely, and a washcloth drenched in cold water had been draped over his forehead in an attempt to combat his fever.

Kjelle leaned against a wall, arms crossed and a dour expression on her face. "...So even someone as strong as him can be brought down by illness, huh..."

Lucina tightened her fists in her lap. "This is my fault. I should have insisted on cauterizing his wounds. But I assumed that since Robin himself didn't think any disinfection beyond alcohol was necessary, I must have been fretting unreasonably..."

"In fairness to you, alcohol usually does do the trick..." Kjelle muttered. "It's been a long time since we've seen anyone get serious inflammation from Risen wounds."

The princess grimaced. "But we have seen it all the same. I should have been more vigilant. This should have occurred to me as a potential concern as soon as I noticed that something was unusual about his mannerisms."

Kjelle tried to make a reassuring gesture. "The doctor said-"

" _The doctor doesn't know what he's dealing with!_ " Lucina snapped.

She was met with a blank stare from Kjelle.

Lucina matched her gaze for a moment, then looked away, ashamed. "...Forgive me. I did not mean to react so harshly."

Kjelle eyed her for some moments, then turned toward Robin, thinking. "...He'll be fine, Lucina. I refuse to believe someone who could do the things he's done, let alone the things he's claimed to have done, could be brought down by something like this."

"...Strength doesn't mean everything," Lucina murmured.

Kjelle didn't have a good response to that. She pursed her lips as she looked out the window at the grey sky. The snowstorm had only just recently abated.

Eventually, she spoke again.

"...Hey. Lucina. How accurate are these little foretellings of Robin's?"

Lucina, who had been in the process of changing Robin's washcloth, looked up. "He is generally correct. Occasionally, minor details do differ, but there is little cause to doubt his predictions."

Kjelle stood up straight. "Then we have a problem on our hands."

"What do you mean?" Lucina questioned.

Kjelle pointed toward the window. "According to him, raiders are coming in a few days, and we can't move Robin yet, not in his condition."

Lucina gasped as she understood Kjelle's implication.

The knight stated it outright anyway. "Either we stay and fight, or we leave Robin behind."

Lucian sprang to her feet. "I will not-"

Kjelle stuck out her hand, rolling her eyes. "Yeah yeah, I know, I know," she interrupted. "I never expected you to. And I never stopped being your retainer, so if you say we're staying, then we're staying."

Lucina glanced to Robin with worry.

Kjelle walked up to her. "Where do you think you're looking at?"

Lucina stiffened, and she whipped her head toward Kjelle. "What?!"

Kjelle folded her arms. "Robin's not waking up anytime soon. You can't depend on him to solve this mess for you."

Lucina's brows shot up. "What are you-"

Kjelle cut her off. "I don't know how long you've been in this time, or how long he's been with you. But it's pretty obvious that he's been calling the shots." She could see that the princess was about to protest this, but the knight gave her no leeway to speak. "You're the godsdamn Exalt, Lucina. The old you would have already organized whatever passes for a militia around here. Have you really become so weak that you can't do anything by yourself anymore?"

Lucina's eyes shot wide.

Kjelle jabbed a finger at Robin. "If you're so worthless now that you have to rely on _him_ for everything, then take that damn crown of yours and chuck it in the snow. I'm not going to devote myself to some lackey. If-"

" _Kjelle._ "

The knight fell silent. Lucina was glaring at her now, eyes burning.

"I am Exalt, yes. But that doesn't mean that I can't care for the life of my friend." She gave a brief, humorless laugh. "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I have become somewhat reliant on Robin. But don't take that to mean that I've weakened. Don't take that to mean that I've forgotten my mission, or that I haven't gained anything from my time with him."

Kjelle clenched her fists. "Prove it."

Lucina was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. Come, let's go outside." Her hand rested on Falchion's hilt meaningfully.

Kjelle narrowed her eyes as Lucina walked past her. "What about Robin? Aren't you worried about leaving him alone?"

Lucina gave a look over her shoulder. "This will be quick."

Kjelle grinned.

* * *

The two women faced each other from across the snow. There were no spectators, as most of the villagers had retreated into their homes to wait out the weather and had yet to emerge.

Kjelle stretched out her arms. "Been a while since we went at it properly, huh?" She picked up her lance and shield. "It's real aggravating that that bastard can handle the both of us at the same time..." she muttered, in reference to Robin's training methods.

Lucina said nothing, taking her preferred stance as she held Falchion level.

Kjelle frowned. Already, she could tell that there was a difference between how Lucina was now and how she had been before the time-leap. Her composure was as solid as stone, offering even fewer openings than previously. More concerning were her eyes, though; they were piercing, the left one especially, as if they saw through everything that Kjelle had to offer.

The knight charged without waiting for a signal, and threw her lance out. She held nothing back; if Lucina could be killed by something like this, then she deserved it, and Kjelle was just saving some Risen or other the effort.

Lucina sidestepped the attack easily, then flicked Falchion out in a blur.

Startled, Kjelle caught the blade on her shield. Had Lucina always been this fast?

The princess followed this up by darting around to Kjelle's blind spot, where her shield's curve and her pauldrons cut off her line of sight. The knight moved to react, but Lucina suddenly ducked back in, revealing that her maneuver had been a feint. Her movement was graceful and fluid, almost feline. There seemed to be an effortlessness to it now, as if every minor step was natural, deliberate, and essential.

Falchion homed in again, and this time Kjelle had no choice but to deflect with the shaft of her spear, as her shield was overextended and wouldn't reach in time. Kjelle strained with all of her might and knocked Falchion back, only barely overpowering the princess's two-handed strike. Lucina backpedaled, seemingly put off balance. Kjelle smirked and lunged forward with her lance.

Which was exactly what Lucina wanted.

In a calm and calculated motion, the princess allowed the lance's tip to pass through the gap in Falchion's guard, then gently pushed the strike aside to pass harmlessly by. In an instant, she had dragged her blade down the pole's length, aided by Kjelle's own forward momentum. The knight's eyes bulged, and she hastened to bring her shield around to defend herself, but with a flick of Lucina's wrist, Falchion spun around to point its blade at Kjelle's throat.

"Dead," Lucina declared evenly.

Kjelle blinked. "Holy... Holy hell, Lucina! How did you do that?!"

Lucina smiled as she withdrew her regalia. "I fought you as he would have."

Kjelle simply shook her head. "Man, this trip has been nothing but blows to the ego. I mean, I never would have followed you in the first place if you hadn't been stronger than I am, but..." She cleared her throat. "Alright, I'm sorry. I was out of line. But don't forget what I said, you hear me?"

"I will not. Thank you for speaking your opinions so honestly and... bluntly."

Kjelle jerked her head toward one of the buildings. "C'mon. We should probably go tell them about the raiders coming."

Lucina looked back to the doctor's house. "But Robin-"

"Is in a house that has a doctor in the next room. He isn't going to bite it while we handle this."

Lucina gave an expression of concern, but nodded.

* * *

The village elder reacted skeptically to their information, but he did not dismiss it out of hand, and assured the two that he would have the militiamen gather and begin conducting drills, as well as double the number of lookouts for the next few days.

"So that just leaves these "Annas", I guess," Kjelle said as they walked back to the doctor's lodgings. "What's the deal with them, anyway?"

Lucina tried to recall what Robin had told her of the Secret Sellers. "They are a family of merchants, all of them identical siblings. They all share the same name, and their numbers are far greater than should be feasible."

Kjelle squinted. "That's... weird."

Lucina tilted her head. "I don't profess to understand it myself, but Robin seemed quite used to them."

"Did he ever describe what they look like?"

Lucina frowned. "...No."

Kjelle scowled. "Great."

"I doubt that it matters terribly. The imminent bandit attack is our foremost concern. And even if we did find these "Annas", I do not think that we would be able to sway them to join us by ourselves, given our lack of knowledge about them." She took a deep breath. "...At any rate, I will return to attending to Robin. You should prepare as you see fit."

Kjelle raised an eyebrow. "So you're just going to play nursemaid the whole time?"

"I will not neglect my physical exercise, sleep, or dietary needs, and I will meditate while watching over Robin. But yes, I will leave his side as little as possible."

The knight was now fully suspicious. "Just what's the deal with you two, anyway?"

Lucina furrowed brow. "I do not understand what you are asking. It should be evident that Robin and I are friends and allies."

"But like... What _kind_ of friends?"

Lucina's blank confusion made it clear to Kjelle that she wasn't going to get anything further from this line of inquiry. The knight shook her head. "Never mind. I'm going to find some sparring partners. This is Ferox, so hopefully those militia guys aren't half bad."

"Very well. Do not forget to-"

"Meditate, yeah, I got it. See you later."

The two women turned to part ways, but Kjelle paused in the snow. "Hey. Lucina!" she called.

"Yes?" the princess replied.

"You... still haven't killed anyone, yeah?" Kjelle asked quietly.

"...I have not."

Kjelle sighed. "Well... This whole situation could get rough. Brace yourself, is what I'm saying."

Lucina grimaced. "...I will keep that in mind."

* * *

The next two days passed without incident. During this time, Robin remained unconscious and displayed no signs of improvement. Lucina, who continued to diligently attend to him, found most of her idle time spent meditating. Even with this degree of practice, though, she still found herself unable to fully sense her magic channels. _Luna_ seemed a long way off.

Lucina pushed aside the thought that it would be far longer if Robin never woke up.

Although Lucina had claimed that she would get adequate sleep, in truth, slumber eluded her despite the doctor having been considerate enough to place a small cot on the floorboards for her. At night, it was more difficult to avoid grappling with unpleasant questions. She had become so accustomed to Robin's insight and self-confident planning that the idea of potentially having to make do without them forevermore wasn't something that she had an easy time wrapping her head around. If the fate of the world fell solely upon her shoulders once more, would she still be able to carry the weight without a friend helping to bear the burden?

Simply put, the notion of Robin dying scared her, and she intuitively understood that the issue wasn't so simple as her attachment to him as a friend or his role in averting her grim future.

* * *

" _Lucina..._ "

Her eyes snapped open, and she sat upright in her bed, eyes darting over to the voice that had called her name.

"L-Lucina..." Robin murmured again.

Lucina sprang to her feet. "Robin! You're awake!" she cried.

"N-No... G-Get away from her..."

She paused, confused. The moonlight showed that Robin's eyes were open, but his words were strange.

Suddenly he began to thrash. " _N-No!_ Lucina, wake up! Open your eyes! Oh gods, no, no, no!"

"R-Robin?! I'm right here, Robin!" she shouted, moving quickly to his side.

"H-Hold on, Lucina! I'll find a way to stop the bleeding!" Robin continued, still flailing. One of his arms had worked its way out from under the sheets.

She wrapped her hands around his. "Robin, I'm alright!"

He became still, and sunk back into the bed. He was not lucid, but he seemed visibly more relaxed. "D-Don't die, Lucina. Please don't die." His grip on her hand was almost painfully tight, as if brought about by desperation.

Lucina swallowed dryly. She didn't know whether or not to take this development as a step in the right direction. Was it good that Robin was no longer completely comatose, or problematic that he had slipped into a delirium?

She remained where she was until morning. She hadn't had any intention of withdrawing, but she could tell that the action would have distressed Robin if she had done so.

In the back of her mind, she was aware of the unpleasant thought that she might simply be serving as a substitute, and that she was not the Lucina that he had been crying out for.

* * *

Despite of the doctor's assurances that Robin's condition was improving, his outbursts continued to be intense and unnerving. At one point he fell out of bed, rolling about as if he were attempting to smother flames that had consumed him, crying out that he couldn't breathe. At another, near dawn-break of the third day, he seemed to be reliving the experience of killing his father, and then shortly after his foster sister Aversa as well. From this, Lucina gathered that Robin was experiencing visions of his past, and clearly, they were tormenting him.

"You've suffered a great deal, haven't you?" she murmured as she used a cloth to wipe sweat from his brow.

"I'm... I'm sorry..." he grumbled, eyes still unfocused.

Lucina gave a sigh of exasperation. "You've nothing to apologize for. _I'm_ the reason you're in this state to begin with."

"I'm sorry, Chrom... Couldn't save her. I tried, I really did." Tears were leaking down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Lucina paused, staring at him curiously. Was he referring to her—no, the other Lucina—once more?

"I'm so sorry, Emm," he whispered, immediately answering Lucina's question.

She grimaced, then wiped away his tears. She slipped her hand into his and squeezed reassuringly. "It's alright. It wasn't your fault."

"No!" he protested. "Could have been smarter. Could have done more. Could have... Could have..."

He fell silent, and his eyes closed again. Soon his chest was rising and falling rhythmically.

Lucina sat there for some time.

"...You fool," she murmured gently. "You can't blame yourself for everything."

She knew well that only anguish and madness lay down that path. In her own era, more than one rare night of safe sleep had been spoiled for her by guilt over the deaths of those she had commanded. But she had long ago made peace with that. She had accepted that sacrifice was a necessary part of life, and that those who had gone before her had done so of their own will. Had Robin, who had at points commanded forces numbering greater than perhaps even what had comprised the remnants of humanity in her time, truly not been able to bring himself to acknowledge this fact?

No, she decided. He had acknowledged it, but still rejected it all the same. It was in his nature to be obstinate in that manner. It was why he worked so fervently, in spite of professing a belief that his efforts would change nothing in the world he had come from, and would restore no one that he considered himself to have failed. Robin merely wished to save as many as he could, and that was all there was to it.

Pieces of their argument in Arena Ferox sprang to the forefront of her mind.

" _I just want to help you! You're trying to take the world's problems on by yourself!_ "

"Could I not say the same of you?" she questioned. She stood up. "Robin, you're not the only one who's shouldered the weight of human lives. I've done so as well. You don't have to struggle with them all by yourself."

He didn't respond. The sun was just beginning to rise.

"...I'm going away for a little while now, Robin," she continued. "The raiders will be arriving sometime soon. Before then, I need to prove myself to this village's militia and take command of them. If they do not have leadership, they will most likely fall. I've been leaning on you, I know, but I can still stand on my own two feet."

Robin stirred a bit, and his brow scrunched up. "D-Don't... I... No, I don't... I don't want to be alone..."

There was fear in his voice, and it occurred to Lucina that she had never heard that from him before now. It sounded odd, but also endearing.

 _"Because you're the one I want to save the most, godsdammit!"_ his voice echoed inside her head.

She cupped his cheek in her palm. "...I very much wish to save you as well, Robin. You've been helping me ever since we met. I don't think I can ever thank you enough for that. Now, though, it's my turn to protect you." She stared at him for a moment. "...I don't mind if that will force me to take a human life. I don't care if you only see me as a replacement. I just want to help you, and I'll do whatever that requires."

"N-No," Robin murmured. "D-Don't go. D-Don't die. I d-don't want you to die..."

She smiled. She had always been prepared for death, had always been ready to give her life in service to her cause. She had expected that she could die contented so long as she accomplished something that facilitated the salvation of the world.

Thus, it was an odd change to have a reason to live.

"I won't leave you alone," Lucina promised. "I won't hurt you that way. I'll return to you, I give you my word."

She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.

Robin's expression seemed to settle, and his sleep became peaceful once more.

Lucina watched him for some moments, then turned and left the room.

It never once occurred to her to retrieve her mask from Robin's coat pocket.

* * *

When Kjelle rose near noon, she found the militia already running drills in the village's center.

The knight's eyebrows were raised as she passed them. As she had expected, the Feroxi men were competent, but they hadn't been taking the imminent threat seriously before this morning.

It soon became apparent what—or rather, who—had prompted this change in outlook. Lucina strolled through the ranks, correcting errors in form.

Kjelle walked up to her. "Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise. You look like the old you now."

Lucina looked at Kjelle, then turned her gaze away. "The old me, you say?"

Kjelle gestured to the villagers. "How'd you get all of these idiots to listen to you, anyway?"

Lucina put her finger to her chin. "Well, I first went and challenged the strongest of the group. After that I defeated the second-strongest, and so on and so forth five or six more times. The rest soon fell into line."

The knight stared at her, then burst out laughing. "Is that what Robin would have done, then?"

Lucina smiled. "Not at all. But I'd rather like to think it's what Father would have."

Kjelle chuckled. "So, what do you think of the lot?"

The princess considered. "...Their skill is above average. I expect that we will be able to repel the enemy so long as their numbers do not exceed ours by more than half."

Kjelle nodded. "Sounds about right." She shrugged. "Well, guess I'll get some sparring underway." She turned to join the practicing men.

"...Kjelle," Lucina called.

The knight glanced over her shoulder. "Yes?"

Lucina's eyes were bright. "After this matter is settled, we're going home, and we're going to save Exalt Emmeryn."

Kjelle grinned. "Damn straight."

* * *

Two red-haired women ran through snow-strewn forests.

"How long do you think it'll be until they let up?" the younger of the two Annas called. They had been fleeing from a group of slavers for nearly an hour now, following an unfortunate work-related incident.

The elder shrugged. "They're awfully persistent. Gods, I do rather hate slavers; they have no respect for a free market."

The younger scowled. "It's not my fault that brute was getting all feely. He should have kept his hands to himself if he didn't want to lose them."

"It doesn't matter. There's a village close-by. We can hole up there."

Anna looked at Anna. "Do you really think that's safe? There were a lot of them. It would be bad business to lead a bunch of slavers to a village and let it be destroyed."

The elder Anna smirked. "Well, if it comes to that, we'll just have to protect our interests, don't you think?"

Young Anna laughed. "By the way, do you think those pigs found our little message yet?"

* * *

Twin berserkers stood huddled next each other. The one with black hair, Victor, held a sheet of paper that an underling had brought to them. Apparently, it had been dropped by one of the red-haired women during their flight.

"What does it say, Victor?" asked the brown-haired one, Vincent.

His brother scratched his chin. "Why, Vincent, it appears to be a crude depiction of ourselves, only with buttocks for faces."

"Victor? This quite hurts my feelings."

"Yes, vicious little creatures, aren't they, Vincent?"

The berserker smiled. "And what do we do with nasty beasts, Victor?"

His brother grinned. "Why, we chain them up, Vincent."

Vincent tilted his head. "But sometimes little rats are known to dart under floorboards to hide. And the village ahead will have many floorboards."

Victor tilted his own. "Well then, Vincent, I do believe all we have to do is set fire to all the houses to flush the little mice out."

The underling cleared his throat. "Uh, Bosses, what are you two talking about?"

The twins rolled their eyes.

"The help is sometimes so lacking," Victor sighed.

"Darling, tell the others to light the torches and ready themselves for a party," Vincent commanded his subordinate.

The bandit blinked. "What kind of party, Boss?"

Vincent's eyes twinkled with malice. "Why, our favorite kind."

Victor's eyes gleamed with bloodlust. " _Raiding._ "

* * *

An alarm bell rang out, shattering the everyday bustle of village life. Lucina looked up from her lunch, then turned her head toward Kjelle, who nodded before tossing her own meal aside. The two sprinted to the village walls, and shortly became part of a procession made up of the militiamen they had trained alongside. Soon, they were standing on the ramparts, overlooking a snowy plain cut through by a snaking river and bordered by a ridge of mountains and a small forest. Two red-headed figures were running for their lives across a bridge, and a small legion of men was pursuing them at a disquieting distance.

 _These must be the Annas_ , Lucina decided.

"...Open the gates," she commanded.

"Are you mad?!" one of the men protested. "Those bandits are way too close! They might get through before we can shut the doors behind those women!"

"We're not opening the door for others to come in. We're going outside ourselves," Lucina clarified.

"To hell with that!" another man shouted. "I'm not getting killed for strangers!"

Lucina shot him a cold stare. "By all means, leave. Cravens are useless to us, and we've no desire to be followed by them." She turned to address the entire group. "Kjelle and myself will be going out there to lend aid to those women, with or without you all."

"You'll die, lass," a fourth man, the former captain, said gruffly.

"Perhaps so," Lucina replied. "But as we do so, we will curse the truth that the stories we had heard of Ferox were all false, and that her men have no honor or courage."

The group stared at her, then looked at each other for a few moments.

"Listen, girly," the first man said. "If you think that you can shame us into doing what you want..."

"Then you're absolutely right!" the second laughed. "We'd disgrace Ferox if we let lovely ladies like yourselves get done in!"

"Gods, our mothers would beat us senseless if they could see how we were carrying on!" the third cackled.

"Hell, dyin' wouldna be so bad," the fourth added. "Least I'd finally get away from that hag of an in-law!"

Lucina straightened her back, fighting a tug on her lips inappropriate of a commanding officer. "At attention, men!" she shouted.

The militia saluted as one.

"Assemble before the gates! Prepare for battle!"

The militiamen began to stream down the steps, forming rank and file below.

Kjelle glanced at the princess once the men were out of earshot, an eyebrow raised. "Would you have really gone by yourself, Lucina?"

Lucina stared down at the amateur soldiers. "No. Much as I wish to help those women, tackling these odds alone would accomplish nothing." She met Kjelle's gaze and smiled. "Luckily, I've been taught how to bluff."

* * *

Victor and Vincent came to a halt. Before them, a row of Feroxi stood before the village, weapons raised. The red-haired women were behind them now, panting heavily.

"Oh dear. Vincent, I didn't expect the rabble to be armed and ready," Victor confessed.

"Oh dear. We might lose a few of the darlings at this rate, Victor," Vincent added.

"But on the other hand, it would be bad precedent to allow those wretched girls to go free after maiming one of our darlings."

"Terrible precedent indeed. Our poor darling's heart would be broken forevermore if we failed to get his vengeance."

"What's more, Mother didn't raise cowards, Vincent."

"Why, she didn't raise us at all, Victor!"

"Negotiations, Vincent?" his brother whispered, eyeing the line of men.

"Who needs them, Victor?" the twin replied.

They faced the Feroxi, striking poses. "I am Vincent!" one declared loudly.

"And I am Victor!" the other bellowed.

" _Darlings, do what you do best!_ " they shouted in unison, pointing their axes toward the crowd and their free hands into the sky.

The bandits charged forward.

* * *

The two factions collided like waves breaking against each other.

Battlefields were chaos, but they always had a flow. It was more difficult to read when both sides were flesh and blood, rather than living against undead, but Lucina had been involved in enough conflict to perceive how the fight was unfolding.

The bandits, in spite of having superior numbers, were being routed. They fought by themselves, focused only on protecting themselves. They were dregs of society, castouts who had chosen this path because they cared nothing for their fellow men. They were weak, and could do nothing but pick on the more impotent. They could never hope to stand against the cohesion and camaraderie of brothers-in-arms.

But the battle was not predetermined. The berserkers were immensely skilled and powerful **—** necessary traits for them to have drawn so many of this sort as their followers.

She watched one of them cut down a Feroxian, and found only cruel mirth in his eyes. There was no respect, no reverence for what he had just stolen away. And it was at this moment that Lucina understood that evil had existed long before Grima.

It was a surprisingly simple thing, killing under these circumstances. There was no time to think it over, no time to dwell on the sensation of her blade slicing through flesh and bone, no space in which to be revolted. For the first time, Lucina took the lives of others as she parted a sea of red to make her way to the berserkers.

She broke through the line around the same time that Kjelle did, and with a single glance, the two women understood each other. Lucina charged toward the black-haired brigand, and Kjelle, the other.

The bandit leader smiled malevolently as he caught sight of Lucina. "Oh, well aren't we a pretty one!" he laughed as he caught Falchion with his axe. "Darling, what do you say you throw down that cute little sword of yours? I'd hate to have to sell damaged goods, especially when those with blue hair sell for such a fetching price!"

She parried a powerful swing, warily noting the force behind it. A peek over her shoulder confirmed her suspicion that Kjelle would be struggling with an opponent of this caliber.

"Ah ah ah, don't look away!" the berserker tutted. Lucina ducked under his next attack.

"Tell me," she said quietly. "Why do you do this? Why slay your fellow man? Why rob human beings of freedom, and sell them like animals?!"

He quirked an eyebrow. "For money, of course, you stupid girl." He bared his teeth. "And more importantly, because it's such _fun_!"

Lucina glared at him, and immediately came to a resolution. Before, she had been killing on reflex, in self-defense. This, however, would be the first time that she would take a human life with deliberate intent.

This man's life weighed against Robin's? It was a laughable excuse of a contest.

"If you cannot understand the value of life, if you cannot understand the worth of what it is you steal away..." she began, sidestepping an overhead blow and sinking into a stance, swordtip pointed at the man's chest.

There was a flash of red, and the berserker became distracted as he caught sight of the Annas rushing to Kjelle's aid, immediately turning the tide against the other bandit leader.

"Brother..." he began to say.

"Then you do not deserve to keep your own!" Lucina shouted, snapping the berserker's attention back to her as she lunged forward, her blade whistling through the air.

Falchion glanced off the axehead and bore into the berserker's heart.

The man stood still as blood ran down the regalia's length, coating Lucina's hands and arms.

The princess did not flinch. She could feel the beginning of his death, and she acknowledged it, accepting it for what it was completely.

The berserker dropped his axe, and staggered backwards. His eyes focused on nothing.

"I... I see a... field of flowers. It's so... so beautiful..." he murmured.

Lucina stared at him for a moment, then stood up straight. Around them, the battle was winding down. With one of the leaders slain, the surviving bandits were panicking, and some were beginning to flee.

She recalled the closest she herself had ever come to dying, the result of a Risen ambush years ago. Brutal and virtueless though the bandit leader was, he was still human, and was likely experiencing what she had on that day. Lucina did not regret killing this man, but all the same, she felt pity for him.

"I've seen it too," Lucina said quietly. "A sea of daisies, shining snow-white in the sunlight."

"Is it... Is it alright... for me to go there?" he asked, tears budding in the corners of his eyes.

Lucina's face offered no judgment. "That's not for me to decide."

A look of calmness spread over the berserker's face, and then he toppled onto his back, sightless eyes staring up into the winter sky.

* * *

" _Brother!_ " the other bandit leader shrieked as he watched his sibling die. Anguish marred his face, as sword wounds did his forearms. The Annas circled cautiously, ready to continue their assault at a moment's notice.

"Hey, don't worry, buddy. You're going to be seeing Vincent again _real_ soon," Kjelle said as she raised her lance overhead.

The berserker's eye twitched as he clutched his axe tightly. "B-But _I'm_ Vincent!" he whimpered.

Kjelle grinned darkly. " _Not anymore you're not._ "

Blood splattered across the snow.

* * *

The battle ended shortly thereafter. Only a handful of bandits managed to escape, fleeing into the woods. The militia, many of whom were wounded, soon had retrieved their dead, four in total, and laid them out.

Lucina stood over them. "Thank you," she said quietly before kneeling to close each of their eyes in kind. "Your sacrifices will not be forgotten," she pledged.

She left the funeral preparations to the friends of the deceased as she made her way over to Kjelle.

"Doctor's gonna be working overtime, huh?" Kjelle said dourly.

"No need for that!" one the Annas declared before pulling out a staff. "C'mon, Sis!" she called.

The other Anna nodded. "Annas always pay their debts!" she smiled.

Lucina placed her hands on the shoulders of one of the two red-haired women. "Excuse me... Might I ask something of you?"

The Anna quirked an eyebrow. "What's up?"

"Could you remain in this village for another day or so? There's someone I want you to meet, but it might be a little while before he is ready to do so."

The merchant shrugged. "That might cut into the monthly margins a bit, but what the hell. You helped us, so it's the least we can do." She grinned. "Nice job on that musclehead, by the way."

Lucina nodded passively, then watched as the two sisters set to healing the injured.

"...Pity that some of those guys died, huh?" Kjelle murmured.

Lucina sighed. "Yes, it's regrettable. But then, according to Robin, this village would have been destroyed entirely, and one of those sisters slain, if not for our intervention. In a way, we should be pleased that we managed to keep this many innocent people alive."

Kjelle put her hands behind her head. "Not a bad way to view things."

There was a moment of silence before Lucina spoke again. "I'll see you a bit later. Rest well, Kjelle."

At this point, the knight didn't have to ask where her liege was headed.

* * *

Lucina quietly opened the door to Robin's room. She would check to see that he was sleeping soundly, then wash herself and-

Robin was sitting upright, staring out a window. He turned his head, and his expression lit up. "Lucina!"

She stared blankly for a second, then rushed over and threw herself into a full-bodied hug. "You're alright!" she shouted exuberantly. "Thank gods, you're alright!"

"Wh-Whoa! E-Easy, Lucina! I'm still a little light-headed!"

She pulled back, embarrassed. "O-Oh. I'm sorry, I was just... I've just been quite worried, is all."

Robin frowned. "How long have I been out?"

"A few days," she replied.

Robin's face became marked by guilt. "Have... Have you been watching over me this whole time?"

Lucina coughed. "Well... Not the _whole_ time..."

Robin's eyes suddenly shot wide. "Lucina, you're covered in blood!" he shouted, only just now registering this fact.

She laughed. "Not to worry. It's not my own."

Robin processed this for a moment, and then he gasped in horror. "Oh no! The slavers! They-!"

"Have already been taken care of."

Robin's jaw dropped. "What?! But how-?!" He paused, catching himself. He shook his head, chuckling. "Sorry. That's a dumb question. This was a walk in the park for you, I'm sure. I mean, I'd take idiot bandits over Risen any day." He blanched as another thought struck him. "...Lucina... Did you... Did you have to...?"

She nodded, understanding his question. "I did."

Robin grimaced. "I'm so sorry..."

Lucina shook her head. "Don't be. I only did what was necessary to protect you."

Robin's eyes widened. "To... protect _me_?" he echoed in disbelief.

She smiled softly. "Well, I did wish to safeguard this village, and your friends as well, but..." She cleared her throat. "...Well, knowing that I was defending you helped me to find my resolve."

Robin seemed struck by awe. He attempted to speak, but in a rare occurrence, words did not come to him easily.

"...Thank you, Lucina," he eventually said. He sighed. "I really am sorry. If I had just-"

Lucina interrupted him by putting a finger to his lips. "No talk of that sort. I'm not interested in hearing it. You put yourself in that condition for my sake; it's only natural that I repay you."

He stared at her for a moment, then chuckled. "...If you insist. But man, I do feel like an idiot. What was I thinking?"

"I thought your injury innocuous as well," Lucina admitted. "In truth, I do not understand how it became infected." She gave a look of unease. "Your health didn't start to deteriorate until you attempted to use _Ignis_ , though..."

Robin scratched his chin. "I think I have an idea of what happened."

Lucina blinked. "You do?"

Robin spread his hands wide. "So, during the Valm Campaign, half the Shepherds got this really nasty stomach bug. Laid us out for a week. Our medics couldn't figure out what was wrong, so we got help from the locals. Turns out the disease was their equivalent of the common cold; something completely innocuous that a child could fight off in a day or two. But because we'd never had any exposure to the pathogens, we didn't have any defenses against them." He gestured to himself. "I think the same thing happened to me here. Not being from this world or one connected to it, there was probably a minute difference in whatever bacteria that Entombed was carrying that my body wasn't prepared to handle."

Lucina furrowed her brow. "That makes sense, but..." She tilted her head. "Y-You're _sure_ that this has nothing to do with Grima?"

Robin laughed. "Oh, don't worry about that. I would _know_ if it was Grima. I've been assaulted by his influence before, and trust me, all this was a _picnic_ compared to that."

Lucina frowned. "That must speak volumes for how terrible such an experience is, then. What you were just afflicted with seemed quite horrendous in its own right."

Robin's face became still, and he looked out the window.

"...Would you like to talk about it?" Lucina asked quietly.

Robin was quiet for a moment. "...Three years. My memories total to three years' worth, and I just relived all of the bad ones, again and again."

Lucina nodded. "That was what I had gathered."

Robin arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Was I ranting in my sleep?"

"Something like that."

He looked back to her. "In what amounts to my life, the only point in which I was ever truly alone was atop Grima's back." He became pensive for a moment, once more at a loss for words. "It's like... It's like you're all _mirrors_."

Lucina blinked. "Mirrors?" she repeated.

"I don't really know who I am, you see," Robin explained. "But when I'm with everyone else, it's like I can see my reflection off of them, and that helps just a little." He stared back out the window. "I didn't have anything before Chrom found me. I didn't have a family, I didn't have a home, I didn't have a purpose. I barely even had a name. I was just a nobody, completely adrift in a world I didn't understand. But thanks to him and all the others, thanks to my friends, I started to fill in the gaps. I found a new family. I found a new home. I found a new purpose. Because of them, I was able to become someone." His sorrow became evident. "But they're all gone now."

Lucina felt an urge to reach out to him, to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. But then she thought better of it, realizing she was still caked with blood.

He turned toward her. "The other Lucina once told me that she intended to leave my world once Grima was dealt with. At the time, I couldn't understand why she would want to do something like that. Now, though, I think I kind of get it..." He grimaced. "Here, with these "other" Shepherds, I feel like an outsider looking in, like I'm infringing somewhere I don't belong."

Lucina winced. "I understand that quite well."

Robin's expression suddenly brightened. "But I don't feel that way around you, Lucina. With you, I just feel... Well, I guess the only way to describe it is "normal"," he smiled.

Lucina blinked.

Robin put a hand to his forehead and coughed awkwardly. "...Would you like to know the nightmare I experienced most during all of that?"

She nodded silently.

"...I saw you dying on Grima's back, over and over and over again."

"...You mean the other me?" Lucina asked.

His eyes met hers. "No. I mean you."

She stared blankly at him. "...What?"

Robin cleared his throat, mildly embarrassed. "Don't ask me how I could tell the difference. I just could. I mean, I did see the other Lucina from time to time, just like everyone else, but... Mostly, it was you."

She held his gaze for a moment, then looked away, blushing intensely. Why was something like _that_ causing her to be so pleased? It didn't make sense to her at all.

Robin's own cheeks were pink. "You see... You're, well... You're kind of my best friend."

Lucina's eyes widened. "What?! But Father is-"

"Dead," Robin said bluntly. "The man who was my brother is no more. Don't get me wrong, I care about this world's Chrom too, but... It won't be the same. It _can't_ be the same."

Lucina tilted her head. "So I'm just the runner-up?"

Robin's eyes bulged, and he panicked. " _What?!_ _No, no, I didn't mean it like that at all!_ " He was floundering again, a record three times in one day. "I just- What I meant to say was-"

He was cut off by the sound of Lucina's high-pitched laughter.

Robin quirked an eyebrow.

"I was... I was merely joking!" Lucina giggled. "Your expression right now is so amusing!"

Robin's mind shut down for a moment. The last time he had felt this outmaneuvered, thousands of Chon'sinese resistance soldiers had just died.

Lucina managed to compose herself. "But..." she began. "It makes me very happy to hear that you think of me that way." She was smiling warmly now. "...You know, earlier, Kjelle asked what manner of friend you are to me."

Robin immediately narrowed his eyes. "Hey, why would she-"

Lucina leaned in and hugged him. "The answer is "my closest"," she said into his ear.

When she pulled back, it seemed that Robin was attempting to look anywhere but at her, and a blush had spread across his face.

Lucina stood up. "Well then, I'm going to go clean myself up. You're to stay here and rest, understand?"

Robin cleared his throat and gave a mock salute. "Yes, Ma'am."

She gave a small wave, then left the room.

Robin stared at the door for a few moments, then sank back into his bed, a grin smeared across his face.

* * *

Mad King Gangrel swirled a goblet of wine. "...The incursion into Themis was repelled, you say?" he questioned coolly.

Before him, the courier stood at attention fearfully. "Y-Yes, Your Majesty."

Gangrel fixed his eyes on the man, causing him to tremble. "And my men failed to procure the duke's brat for ransom, I take it?"

The courier nodded, too terrified to form words.

Gangrel rolled his eyes. "Oh, come now, if I killed one of you lot every time you brought me bad news, I'd be out of messengers. You get to live, so long as you get out of my sight before you piss yourself and ruin my floor."

The man bowed hastily, then all but ran from the room.

"Oh my," a voice purred from behind the throne. "Don't tell me your little plans aren't proceeding as expected?" Aversa drawled as she stepped into sight.

"Bite me, woman," Gangrel snapped, glaring at her. "What do you want?"

Another voice came from the shadows. "We were already aware of your unfortunate setback, O King Gangrel." A tall, wiry man stepped forward. "The Grimleal wish to offer you our services. We, who are God's hands, will do what your earthly forces have failed to accomplish."

Gangrel smirked. "Again with that holy man spiel, eh, Validar?" He made a dismissive gesture. "But that's fine with me, "Hierophant". I was thinking of pushing the schedule forward anyway. If you want to make yourself useful, then bring me the head of Exalt Emmeryn." He cackled. "And be sure that the platter you serve it to me on is the Fire Emblem!"

A grin tugged on Validar's lips.

"With the greatest of pleasures, milord," he said, bowing deeply. "By God's will, Ylisse shall fall."


	16. Prelude

A high-pitched shriek caught Lucina's ear. She sprinted down the hallway and burst into the room in the far end.

"Kjelle, what's wrong?!" she shouted.

The knight was backed into a corner, her lance held out defensively. "L-L-Look at that, Lucina!" she shouted.

The princess turned her head to where Kjelle's weapon was pointed, and caught sight of something scurrying around on the floorboards.

She turned her head toward the other woman incredulously. "An insect?"

Kjelle shook her head fervently. "That thing's not an insect. It's a _devil_."

Lucina narrowed her eyes as a rather large cockroach scuttled into view. "Kjelle, that's prepos-"

The bug's wingcase opened, and it flew directly at Lucina's face.

The former Exalt screamed and threw herself out of the roach's trajectory. "It-It can fly?! _Why can it fly?!_ "

"K-Kill it, Lucina! Use Falchion!" Kjelle pleaded.

Lucina was aghast. "Falchion is the fang of Naga! This is beneath its dignity!"

The cockroach came rushing toward her.

In an instant Falchion's tip was buried in the floorboard, having just barely missed its target.

"It evaded?!" Lucina cried in shock. "But how can that be?!"

Kjelle pointed at the roach. "I told you! I told you that thing's a demon!"

The roach scuttled onto Falchion's edge, darting up its length.

The former exalt chucked her regalia across the room.

"Oh, nice going, Lucina!" Kjelle groaned. "How are we going to kill the bastard _now_?!"

"Y-You're the knight!" Lucina stammered. "Protect your liege!"

At that moment, Robin walked into the room. "What the hell's all this noise about?" he yawned.

Lucina and Kjelle shared a silent look, both going pink-faced. The princess coughed, then pointed to where Falchion lay.

Robin blinked. "What? I don't get it. What are you-"

The roach zipped out from under Kjelle's bed.

Robin stared at it for a moment, then slowly turned to regard Lucina. An emotion bordering on pity was contained within his gaze.

"D-Don't look at me like that!" Lucina protested.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "...A _bug_. You two, people who have fought _literal monsters_... Are freaking out over _a bug_. How the hell did you both even survive while I was unconscious?"

"W-Well let's see you do something about it, tough guy!" Kjelle replied.

Robin glanced at her, then nonchalantly walked up to the roach and crushed it under his bare foot.

The women's jaws dropped.

Robin cleaned his sole off on Kjelle's bedsheet. "Ok, so I guess you both have katsaridaphobia. Never knew that before now. Which is weird, since I know Cynthia, Inigo, and Brady all have it. Wonder what the odds of that are..."

""Phobia"? I wasn't _afraid_ of that thing!" Kjelle said indignantly.

Robin scoffed. "Is that so? I wouldn't have guessed it from the sounds coming from here. Gods, the way you two were carrying on, I thought another Entombed had spawned in this room or something."

Lucina cleared her throat. "Speaking of which... You seem to be in much better shape now."

Robin grinned and placed his hands on his hips. "I certainly feel it, too. C'mon, let's have some breakfast, and then we can go talk to the Annas."

* * *

After a quick but not unpleasant meal of sausage and eggs, the three made their way to the inn where the Annas were lodged. Robin spoke with the innkeeper, then led the way to the merchants' room. He knocked on the door, and once a few moments had passed, it opened enough for a red-haired woman to poke her head out.

"What do you wa-" she began, but fell short when she caught sight of Lucina and Kjelle. "Oh, it's you! Please, come on in!"

The younger Anna brought the trio inside. "Sis, we have visitors! Put the kettle on!"

The older Anna looked up from a news pamphlet she was reading on her bed. "We don't have a kettle, we don't have tea, and even if we did, we don't have a stove." Regardless, she swung her legs out from over the bed and rose to greet the visitors.

The tactician waved. "Hello. I'm Robin, and I take it you've already met Lucina and Kjelle."

The sisters shared a quick look of confusion. The older one quirked a brow, then turned to regard the tactician. "Nice to meet you. I'm Anna, and this is my younger sister, Anna."

Robin smiled. "Pleased to make your acquaintances." His brow suddenly furrowed. "Wait... "Anna" and "Anna"? Not, "Anna" and "Anna"?"

The younger Anna seemed to be taken aback. "No, "Anna" and "Anna".

If there was a difference in inflection, neither Lucina nor Kjelle could distinguish it.

The elder Anna gasped. "Wait, do you mean "Anna" and "Anna"?!"

Robin grinned. "Yes! They were friends of mine!"

Kjelle squinted. "Is this a joke? Are we being had?"

The elder Anna put her hand to her mouth. "But that would make you...! Oh my goodness, you're _that_ Robin! Oh, pardon me, if I'd known I was going to be hosting a godslayer, I would have made preparations!"

Kjelle's eye twitched. "... _What?_ "

Robin blinked in surprise. "Wait... You know about me?"

"Oh yes, of course we do!" elder Anna laughed. "The higher-ups have been in a tizzy wondering where you were going to turn up!"

Robin narrowed his eyes. "..."Higher-ups"?"

The younger Anna waved her hand. "Oh, you know. The big-shot Annas."

Robin hesitated for a moment. "...No, no I don't."

The elder Anna jabbed the younger in the ribs with her elbow. "Shut up! People outside the family aren't supposed to know about that!"

Robin scratched his head. "...So the Secret Sellers are some cross-dimensional consortium, I take it?"

The two Annas blanched.

The elder began to shake the younger by her shoulders. "Now look what you've done!" she shouted.

Lucina cleared her throat. "Excuse me, but I'm afraid I'm at a bit of a loss here."

The Annas turned to look at her. The elder sighed. "Take a seat everyone, we might be here awhile."

After everyone was comfortably situated, with the guests sitting in chairs and the Annas on their respective beds, the elder sister launched into her explanation. "Well, as I'm sure you know, Robin here comes from a different world, or a different timeline, or an Outrealm, or however you want to phrase it."

Lucina nodded, while Kjelle was wide-eyed at having apparent outside collaboration toward Robin's story. "This is mental..." she murmured.

The elder Anna waved at the tactician. "Robin was his world's Heart of Grima. Usually, things don't go well for Grima's Heart. That's just how the balance of probability works. Every once in a while, though, one of them manages to get the better of the Fell Dragon. This Robin used his connection to Grima to turn the dragon's own power against itself, which should have killed them both."

Robin became grim-faced. "...That's right. Naga said that I might be able to remain tethered to existence if I had strong enough bonds, but..." He grimaced. "By the time I killed the other me, everyone else was already..." He raised his head. "So how am I still alive, then? There was no one to anchor me. I should have died alongside Grima, right?"

The elder Anna winced. "...I'll put this frankly: We have no idea. There isn't a precedent for this. All we knew is that you didn't die; we had no clue what was going to happen next. We were just waiting for you to pop up again somewhere."

Robin frowned. "How could you know that I wasn't dead?"

Younger Anna shook her head sagely. "Sorry, but some things we're not allowed to tell you. A _lot_ of things, actually."

Robin considered for a moment, then shrugged. "That's fine, I guess. I'm busy enough without grand-scheme stuff like this distracting me."

Elder Anna cleared her throat. "Anyway, we're glad that you've managed to show up somewhere. We wanted to personally thank you for avenging our cousins."

Robin sighed. "I don't really want to be thanked for that. I failed to save them; revenge doesn't mean much to me compared to that."

"Well, still, we're in your debt, and the Secret Sellers always repay their debts. It's just good business practice, you know?" she smiled. She leaned forward. "So, if you'd like, we could send you back to your original world."

Robin's eyes shot wide, and silence fell over the room. Lucina stared at the tactician in shock.

After some moments, Robin's expression became neutral. "Thanks, but I'll pass on that. There's nothing left for me there."

Lucina let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Elder Anna put her finger to her chin. "Not even the Plegian kingship?"

Kjelle bolted to her feet. " _What?!_ " she bellowed.

Robin crossed his arms and tilted his head. "Oh yeah, that."

"What do you mean, "oh yeah, that"?!" the knight shouted.

Robin turned toward her. "Validar was King of Plegia, and I was his firstborn son. That would make me Crown Prince. Have I not mentioned this?"

" _No, you bloody well haven't!_ "

Lucina blinked. "You had told me these things; I just never thought to derive the conclusion that you would have been heir to the throne."

Robin waved a hand. "Well, it's not like it matters. I have absolutely no interest in being a ruler. I saw the shit Chrom had to put up with as Exalt; that's all a pain in the ass I'd rather not be bothered by." He put his hands behind his head and winced. "Frankly, I'm not even keen on going back to being an Army Commander."

Kjelle sat back down, massaging her temple. " _You_ were an Army Commander? I think I'm going to have an aneurysm..."

The younger Anna frowned. "So you don't want to go back home?"

Robin's expression darkened. "My home's gone."

The younger sibling winced. "I... I see..."

Robin's eyebrows quirked. "...However... I can think of one request I can make in regard to my old world."

The elder Anna nodded. "Just say the word."

Robin bridged his palms. "Could you... Could you look after the baby Lucina? I imagine she's going to be very lonely, and it would be nice to know that someone is taking care of her as she grows up."

Lucina gasped. "...Robin!" she whispered.

The elder Anna snapped her fingers. "Done and done!"

Robin scratched his chin. "Well then... Aside from that, could I ask for some material favors?"

The two Annas immediately narrowed their eyes. " _What kind_?" they asked in unison.

Robin cleared his throat. "Erm, well, I'm running a little low on money at this point." He jerked his thumb toward Lucina and Kjelle. "And we could use Arms Scrolls so that I can have an easier time teaching these two some skills."

The Annas stared at him for a moment, then exchanged a rapid consultation in hushed tones. After some moments' deliberation, they faced him again. "We can give you a an L-Class bullion and two Arms Scrolls," the younger offered. "Anything more than that eats into our profits by an unacceptable amount."

Robin grinned. "Excellent, thank you!"

The younger Anna reached into a satchel and spread four scrolls across the center table, each containing detailed instructions on the mastery of a particular skill. "Take your pick!"

Robin read the titles for a few moments. "Well, _Luna_ 's an easy choice," he murmured. He pondered a moment. "I don't think I'm particularly compatible with it, though, so maybe I should get a scroll that _I_ can learn from."

Lucina looked toward him. "Perhaps _Vengeance_?"

Robin folded his arms. " _Nope_ ," he said flatly.

Lucina frowned. "But I was under the impression that _Vengeance_ was a skill well-suited to tome-users."

"Yeah, and it was also Validar's signature technique," Robin replied, the mere mention of his father drawing out a sneer. "And I'll be _damned_ if I take after that bastard." He reached over and plucked one of the scrolls from the table. " _Sol_ will do. I'd prefer something that increases my magical output, but since you need to learn this for _Aether_ anyway, it should be fine."

"...If you say so..." Lucina murmured.

Robin looked back toward the Annas. "Thanks again. We really appreciate it." He slipped the scrolls into his pocket and accepted the bullion from the elder sister. "By the way... Would either of you be interested in joining the Shepherds?"

The two sisters glanced at each other. "Should we?" the younger asked.

"We _are_ pretty under-represented in Ylisstol..." the elder considered.

After inaudible discussion, they nodded. "I'll come with you!" the younger declared.

Robin clapped his hands. "Excellent!" he laughed.

They all rose to their feet, and the Annas hugged each other farewell. As Robin was about to leave, though, the elder Anna stopped him.

"...Hey. I'm not supposed to tell you this, but... Well, I think you deserve a warning," she said out of earshot of the others.

Robin glanced at her. "A warning?"

"You weren't the only Robin we haven't been able to keep tabs on. And since this timeline is an "anchor", as we like to call it..." Her expression hardened. "Well, let's just say that if one of them in particular shows up... _Things could get unpleasant, fast_."

Robin processed this silently, then nodded. "Thanks for the heads-up."

* * *

As the newly-expanded group left the inn, Anna and a disgruntled Kjelle leading the way, Lucina halted Robin by tugging on his sleeve.

He arched an eyebrow at her. "What is it?" he asked.

She was silent for a moment, then leaned in and hugged him. "Thank you."

He blinked before returning the embrace. "Oh... You mean for...?"

She pulled back, then nodded, smiling. "I know that she isn't me, and will live her own life... But I appreciate what you did for that Lucina regardless."

Robin laughed. "It really isn't that big a deal. The hard part will be doing right by _this_ world's baby Lucina." He smirked insolently. "Oh, and you as well, of course."

The princess stared at him wide-eyed.

Robin jerked his thumb toward the others. "C'mon, we're going to get left behind." He turned on his heel and set off after Kjelle and Anna.

Lucina kept her gaze fixed on his back for a moment, the admiration within as evident as her Brand of the Exalt. Then she too followed.

* * *

Some time had passed since the Shepherds had left the Shifting Dunes, during which Laurent continued to remain an evasive enigma. Though Reflet didn't sense any overt hostility from him, it seemed that the mage still strived to keep a reasonable distance from her, frustrating her attempts to learn more about Robin, Marth, and their mysterious future. And given that Laurent could only offer two words at a time, and was tight-lipped with all of them, it was exceedingly difficult to get any information from him.

She found a chance as they crossed the ocean on a commercial fairy, headed for an island known colloquially as "The Farfort", once more by Robin's direction.

Reflet caught sight of Laurent standing at the ship's edge, staring out into the sea. Laurent's behavior was generally erratic and hard to predict, but one habit he held was frequently standing still and fixating on his surroundings.

"I've never seen so much water in one place before," Reflet murmured as she sidled up to him.

Laurent didn't make any physical acknowledgment of her presence, but he didn't turn and leave either, so that was a small victory in and of itself.

"Surprisingly blue," he agreed.

Reflet looked up at him. "...What color was it in your time?"

Laurent's eyes shot wide momentarily before he regained his composure. He turned toward her, and spent several moments in silent assessment.

"...Pitch black," he replied, apparently having decided that there wasn't any point in a denial of Reflet's insinuated claim.

She blinked. "...Is that so?" She turned her head toward the water. "...How much longer do we get to enjoy this sight, then?"

"Forever, hopefully," he answered.

Reflet frowned. "That's not what I meant."

He smiled. "Don't care."

She scowled. "Why are you guys all so godsdamn obtuse? Why can't you just tell me what happened?"

Laurent grinned, gesturing to his mouth. "Inefficient conveyance."

Reflet's brows shot up as she registered the joke. "...Well, you can write, can't you?"

"Of course."

"...But you're not going to, are you?"

"Maybe someday," he said, his expression making it clear that he understood just how needling the tactician found such a response.

Reflet growled and leaned over the ferry's railing as the island came into sight. "I should have let that Risen eat you."

Laurent laughed.

* * *

Near a fortress west of the Plegian Strait, a Taguel dragged himself up out of the sand.

"Ugh... Of course the only one of us with fur lands in the scorching-hot desert," he whined. "I still have my winter coat, too..."

The first priority for Yarne was getting out from under this sun. The risk of heatstroke was not something to laugh at, and threatened an ignoble end to the Taguel race. He looked about, searching for other signs of life, hostile ones in particular. After concluding that he was in no immediate danger save for that posed by his environment, he set off toward the building in the distance, the only visible refuge from the high temperature.

This place was eerie. There was no risk of Risen, sure, but Yarne knew well enough from his mother's stories that there had been monsters roaming the world long before the Risen.

As he trudged through the sand, he had to stifle an urge to transform with his Beaststone to speed up his travel. Such a thing would unquestionably draw attention from anyone he had failed to notice, and that was the last thing he needed right now. So instead, he continued to suffer, panting while being thankful for the limited sweat glands his human father had bequeathed him.

After what seemed to be forever, but was definitely less than an hour, he finally began to approach the fortress. Yarne hesitated; this building didn't have a civilian appearance, which suggested it wouldn't look favorably on regular visitors, let alone strange-and-possibly-a-delicacy visitors.

Before Yarne could turn around, though, his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't fed in some time. Mentally, he adjusted the scales that balanced his survival necessities against inferred risk. Presently, need for food and shelter was just slightly outweighing mortal peril, so Yarne reluctantly took the option that gave his species the best chance of eventual propagation. Sniffing the air, he crept along the brick walls, ever wary of patrolling sentries. Eventually, he stumbled across an open window. He swiveled his head back and forth to be sure that he hadn't been spotted, then transformed and leapt up more than fifteen feet, just barely managing to hook his claws into the windowsill. Now dangling, he reverted to his regular form, then heaved himself up to a crouch, ready to throw himself back outside on a moment's notice if the situation demanded it.

Mercifully, this hallway seemed unoccupied, and pleasantly cool to boot. Yarne hopped down, landing easily from a height that might have given a regular human sore ankles. He began to sneak through the corridor, following his nose to where scent trails indicated a kitchen was likely located. Occasionally, his keen senses would pick up on approaching men, and he would slink behind a pillar or a suit of armor until they had passed by. With careful progress, he soon enough found the place he was looking for.

In a stroke of luck, the kitchen was unoccupied. Yarne immediately bounded to the pantry. He felt slight guilt about the theft he was about to commit, of course, but this was in the name of the survival of the Taguel race. Surely the owners of this fortress would understand.

He threw open the door, and a bevy of smoked meats, vegetables, breads, and cheeses sat in a spacious room before him.

Yarne fought off the urge to weep, and began to tear into the food, his hunger having been exacerbated by transformation.

So engrossed in his engorging was he, that he failed to notice someone approaching from behind.

"St-Stop right there!" a voice called.

Yarne blinked, then looked over his shoulder to find a lance pointed at him, held by the trembling hands of a plain-looking man.

He swallowed. "...Oops."

"P-Put your hands where I can see them!" the man ordered. He looked nothing like a soldier, Yarne had to note. The Taguel knew soldiers, and this wasn't one of them.

"Listen, buddy, just put that down, alright?" Yarne asked. "I'm not looking to hurt anyone. I just needed some food is all. I'll be on my way in no time, ok?"

The man seemed unconvinced.

Yarne raised his hands in an attempt at placation and took a step forward. "Now listen-"

The man screamed and jabbed with his lance, forcing Yarne to backpedal. "Whoa, take it easy there!" the Taguel pleaded.

"D-Don't move! I'll skewer you if I have to, so help me gods!"

"...Skewer?" Yarne repeated. His brow furrowed. "You're not making this easy on me. Last chance. Please move, I really don't want to have to do this."

"H-Help! _Help_!" the man screamed at the top of his lungs.

Yarne sighed, then transformed.

The man nearly fainted from shock. "M-Monster!" he screamed. " _Monster!_ "

Yarne swatted him aside before he could react. "That is _very_ rude," he said through a layered voice.

Knowing that reinforcements were inevitable now, Yarne hopped over the unconscious man, intent on exiting the kitchen as quickly as he could. But before he was able to do so, a figure appeared to block his path, her blonde twintails streaking behind her as she raced into the room, sword drawn.

"Holland, what's wrong?! What are you-" She became still as she caught sight of the transformed halfling. "...Yarne?!"

The Taguel blinked. "...Severa?"

* * *

Thanks to shortcuts only Annas were privy to, Robin and his group made their way back to Ylisstol in less than three weeks' time.

Lucina and Kjelle looked about in amazement as they took in the image of what their home had been like before the Day of Grima. The former was now once more wearing her mask, and after some cajoling, had convinced Kjelle to aid her in setting her hair back up in her "Marth" style.

Robin would occasionally send silent glances over his shoulder toward them, his face unreadable as he led the way through Ylisstol.

"It's like a dream..." Lucina murmured. "It somehow seems even more whole than in my memories..."

Robin cleared his throat. "It'll be a while before we can gain entrance to the castle. In all likelihood we made it back here before Chrom and the rest did, and they're our ticket through the gate."

Lucina frowned. "Oh... I see. Well, it's not as if that matters terribly," she tried to laugh.

Robin eyed her for a moment, then put his hands behind his head. "We'll look for a fairly nice inn to wait in."

Anna shook her head. "Oh no, not me. I'm taking the cheapest, dingiest shack I can find."

The tactician snorted in amusement. "Why am I not surprised?"

The group continued to make its way through the city until Robin stopped dead in his tracks.

Lucina tilted her head at him. "Robin?"

When he didn't respond, she followed his line of sight. "...Oh!" she exclaimed. "That's...!"

Emmeryn strode through the main street, flanked by guards. She smiled brightly at those she passed, and stopped to speak with anyone who requested it of her.

Robin stood transfixed, his face abnormally pale.

"Are you... Are you well, Robin?" Lucina asked.

He blinked, his trance shattered. "Ah... Uh, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. It's just..." He rubbed the back of his head. "...Emm had been gone for so long, you know? When I killed Grima, when I was falling through that void, hardly any time seemed to pass before I woke up in this world. It was like a bad dream, a short-lived nightmare. One minute, Chrom was dead, his body lying right before my eyes, and the next, he was offering me his hand." He swallowed dryly and gestured toward the current Exalt. "But with her... It's different. The Emmeryn I knew had been dead for years." He grimaced. "...I blamed myself for what happened, you know."

Lucina placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm well aware," she murmured. "And I am certain that you were mistaken in doing so."

He looked at her, then nodded in appreciation. "Thank you."

Kjelle put her hands on her hips. "So that's the previous Exalt, huh? I've heard a lot about her. Is she really as great as my parents used to say?"

Robin's eyes flared with determination. "Emm is like the living embodiment of peace, and possibly the most kind-hearted person I've ever met. No matter what, this time, we have to save her."

"Alright then," Kjelle agreed. "Just point me at the bastards who would hurt her, and I'll take care of them."

"Yes..." Lucina agreed. "I wasn't fortunate enough to ever know my aunt when I was growing up. I would like to change that for the Lucina who has yet to be born." She paused. "...I do have one concern, though. What if Father and the others do not return in time?"

Robin cracked his knuckles. "Don't you worry about that. I'm sure I could handle all of the assassins by myself. As far as I'm concerned, Chrom being late just means less chance of someone else putting down Validar." He grinned maliciously. "Man, I get to kill my father _twice_? This'll be like the Lodestar Festival coming early."

* * *

One month remained until the attempt on Emmeryn's life.

* * *

 **AN: Hello everyone, thanks for waiting through that brief hiatus. I just needed a bit of a break; I had a lot of things going on around that period of time, and on top of that was concerned that progress on my book was stagnating. Speaking of that, I'm chugging along there; over 300 pages now and almost 200k words. I'm hoping to have it finished before January, so that I can set about the daunting task of pursuing publishers in the new year.**

 **Once more, thank you to TheRepeat for editing help.**


	17. Prelude II

Severa hummed cheerfully as she marched through the moonlit dunes of Plegia. Yarne trailed behind her, eyes cautiously jumping from shadow to shadow for fear of nonexistent entities that might be lurking within. The blonde-haired girl had kept a hand gripped tightly around her mother's wedding ring ever since she had reclaimed it. Aside from the worn sword with the engraved handle she kept at her belt, it was her most treasured possession, and the relief she felt in having it back on the necklace she wore was no small amount.

Yarne swallowed nervously. "S-Severa? Do you even know where we're going?"

"Of course I do," she scoffed. "There's a recruiter's office in the next town."

Yarne furrowed his brow. "And why would we go there?"

Severa rolled her eyes. "To sign up for the Plegian army, you fluffy dolt!"

" _What?!_ Why would we do _that?!_ "

Severa sighed in exasperation. "Because, dummy, the war's going to break out soon. Once that happens, we'll be called into active duty, and once _that_ happens, we'll be sent to the frontlines."

"And this is a good thing _why_ exactly?" Yarne questioned.

The mercenary grinned. "Because the instant we go up against the Ylissean army, we just defect to their side! And all the while we get paid and fed! It's perfect!"

Yarne coughed. "Uh, one problem."

She whipped her head back to look at him. "What?"

Yarne gestured to himself. "I'm not exactly willing to place bets on the odds that Plegians won't skin and eat me... or _worse_... the instant they catch sight of me. Taguels probably aren't exactly welcome here, you know?"

Severa shrugged. "Ok, then we'll buy you a big suit of armor so you can disguise yourself."

Yarne narrowed his eyes. "That is a _terrible_ idea."

Severa waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, relax. I know we gave most of the gold we filched from Nelson to Holland, but we have plenty leftover. We can definitely afford something like that."

"That's not the point! I'll roast like a ham inside plate mail! Do you know how bad this heat is for me already just because of my fur?!"

She scowled. "Ok, then we'll wrap you up in sheets or something!"

"What if I need to transform? Anything that's not skintight won't be preserved. The disguise will tear."

"Stop trying to mess with my strategic brilliance!"

* * *

 _Twenty-six days remained until the attempt on Emmeryn's life._

* * *

Robin, Lucina, and Kjelle sat in the courtyard behind their inn, each still and silent in meditation. They had been like this for nearly an hour now, and given that their choice of training ground was sequestered away within a cluster of buildings, they hadn't been bothered throughout.

Lucina centered her breathing and once more set to chasing the sensation of the magic coursing through her body. She had come frustratingly close to grasping it at points, but the flow remained elusive, inconstant, and uncooperative.

She opened her eyes, peering out through her mask. "...This is aggravating."

Robin cracked open one of his own. "What's wrong?"

Lucina sighed. "I fear that this is beyond me. No matter how I try, I just can't seem to make any headway."

Robin looked up at the sky. "You fight the current. Sit, and allow it to wash over you."

Kjelle sneaked a glance at him. "You got that from some self-help book, didn't you?"

The tactician grinned. "Actually, it came from Gregor. But the way he said it was "You make fight with current, young Robin. Sit, and allow washing you over"."

Kjelle snorted. "Yeah, well-"

She became quiet as Robin abruptly stood. The knight watched intently as he sank into a fighter's stance. Robin inhaled deeply, then lashed out with a blisteringly quick jab. He frowned, then punched the air again. This time, sparks of green light sprang from his fist. Robin tried once more, but no further magical output appeared.

He straightened his back, then sighed. "Getting closer, I guess."

Lucina looked at him curiously. "Was that _Sol_ just now?"

Robin sank back into a meditating position. "Something resembling it. At this rate, I'll probably get the hang of the technique before the New Moon. It's been a while since I've had to learn a new skill, though, so we'll see." He closed his eyes.

Lucina stared at him for some moments. Somehow, despite her own progress, it seemed that the gap between the two of them had yet to shrink even the slightest amount.

Well, that just meant that she had to try harder.

She folded her hands and once again reached within.

* * *

 _Twenty-three days remained until the attempt on Emmeryn's life._

* * *

Donnel gaped from under his signature makeshift helmet as the Shepherds made their way through the main street. "Shucks, these are mighty big buildin's." He and his new comrades marched in procession toward Castle Ylisstol, and were greeted by friendly citizens of the capital along the way. The mission to the Farfort and subsequent return home had been surprisingly uneventful; the bandit raid had been quelled without much difficulty, and the group's newest recruit showed a staggering amount of potential, given that he had managed to hold his own in the heat of battle with just a pot and a hoe.

Chrom laughed. "You'll get used to them." He pointed to Castle Ylisstol in the hills above. "In fact, you'll be living in the biggest one."

Donnel's eyes seemed to be making an attempt at escaping his skull. "That one right there?! But Your Majestyness, commonfolk like me ain't supposed to live in fancy castles!"

The prince waved a hand. "Seriously, you can call me Chrom, it's fine. Or Captain, if you'd prefer some formality. And don't forget, you're going to be a soldier. Naturally you would live in the barracks whenever we're not out on missions or patrols."

"I-I understand, Your Lordship!"

Chrom rolled his eyes.

Beside him, Reflet was fervently glancing about.

The prince glanced at his tactician. "Something wrong?"

"I'm on the lookout for Robin. Somehow I just know that bastard's going to pop out of nowhere when we least expect it."

Chrom snorted. "I wouldn't be surprised to find him having tea with Emm when we get back."

Reflet's expression darkened. "He'll be laughing, too, like he didn't send us into an uninhabitable deathtrap." She shot a look at the prince. "We're going to kill him, right?"

Chrom's lip involuntarily twitched as he saw an Entombed in his mind's eye. "Oh, we are _absolutely_ going to kill him."

Of course, they both knew that even if either of them had actually meant their stated murderous intent, they wouldn't have stood a chance against Robin.

Still, it helped to vent.

* * *

 _Twenty-two days remained until the attempt on Emmeryn's life._

* * *

Having heard from local gossip that the prince had returned to the capital, Robin and his companions strolled through the gates of Castle Ylisstol. It seemed that Chrom had done as the tactician had requested and instructed the guards to allow anyone claiming the name "Robin" to pass through. This was a welcome convenience, as using _Acrobat_ to carry the others over the walls would have been a serious hassle for him.

He and Lucina walked side by side, each step of theirs sure and purposeful; both knew perfectly from memory where they were headed, which turns and doors to take, which lengths of vibrantly colored and softly woven carpet to tread upon.

They eventually arrived at an audience chamber, and Robin unceremoniously opened the doors without knocking. He led his group in to find Emmeryn, Chrom, Lissa, and Reflet all taking tea, with Frederick and Phila standing in attendance.

"Hello, everyone!" Robin called brightly. "I trust things went well?"

Chrom and Reflet both stood up. For a moment, their faces seemed to be obscured by the shadows cast by their hair. They began to stride toward the tactician.

Robin frowned. Beside him, Lucina stiffened, unaccustomed to the palpable hostility in her father's gait.

Lissa glanced up at Frederick. "Should we stop them?"

The Knight Commander gripped his arms tightly behind his back. "No, no we should not, milady."

Once within sufficient distance, Reflet jabbed a finger into her brother's chest. "You _asshole!_ "

Robin blinked. "Hm?"

Chrom leaned in menacingly. "Robin, I appreciate your assistance and all, but how exactly did you neglect to mention a _colossal Risen_ in your notes about the Shifting Sands?"

The tactician's eyes bulged. "A _what?!_ "

"Laurent called it an Entombed," Reflet clarified.

The mouths of the time travelers dropped as one. Robin grabbed his sister by the shoulders. "Hold on, you can't be serious! There's no way an Entombed would be there! That's impossible!" Paralysis gripped him as a horrifying thought struck. "Oh no... No, no, no... If you all fought something like that at your current level..."

Reflet brushed his hands off with a look of annoyance. "Relax, no one died."

Robin stared in blank confusion. "What? But that's- I mean, that's _great_ , but _how_ -"

"We trapped it in quicksand," she answered.

Her brother's gaze filled with admiration. " _Nice!_ "

Chrom crossed his arms. ""Nice" is not how I would describe that situation. Do you have any idea how close we came to getting wiped out?"

Robin winced. "I'm sorry. I honestly had no idea."

A throat was cleared.

Everyone turned to look at Lucina.

"...We had no reason to expect there to be Entombed in existence at this point in time," she said in her fake voice. "We ourselves were caught off guard by the appearance of one in Ferox. If Robin had not been present, we likely would have been killed."

Chrom eyed her for a moment, then fixed his gaze back at Robin. "You actually took down one of those things by yourself?" He was still angry, but he had begrudgingly allowed his tone to convey that he was impressed.

Robin rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Er, yeah, but it's really not that big a deal. By the time they had started to show up, we were all strong enough that they weren't a serious problem." He sighed. "I had hoped that the one we had come across was just a freak occurrence, an anomaly. If there's more of them out there, though..." He bit his thumb, a worried expression flickering across his face.

Chrom put his hands on his hips, but after a few moments more of staring at the tactician, his irritation broke. "...Well, everything turned out fine. We didn't lose anyone, and we picked up Laurent and Donnel. Hell, we even got our hands on that piece of scrap iron you wanted so bad."

Robin's expression brightened. "Good, good. It's in the vault, I take it?"

"It is."

"And Laurent?" Lucina asked.

Reflet had yet to let go of her foul mood, but she answered the question as politely as she could. "I think I saw him heading for the training grounds."

Robin nodded. "Right, we'll go check up on him. But first... I believe we have some introductions to make." He stepped past Chrom and Reflet, and first greeted Lissa and Frederick, then turned to the Exalt and her Wing Commander. "Emm, Phila. It's good to see you again."

The Knight Commander bristled. " _Emm_?!" he nearly spluttered.

Emmeryn blinked. "Pardon me, but I cannot seem to recall ever making your acquaintance, dear guest."

The tactician placed his arm over his chest. "I am Robin, Grandmaster Tactician." He turned and swept out his arm to gesture to his companions. "Behind me are L- ... _Marth_ , Kjelle, and Anna. We'll be joining the Shepherds."

Emmeryn smiled. "Oh? You're that Robin, are you? Well, we're grateful for your service."

Chrom frowned. "Hold on, I never agreed to this."

Robin tilted his head at his friend. "Do you really not want our help?"

Chrom scowled. "I _have_ been given cause to reconsider recently, you know."

They maintained eye contact, then Chrom sighed. "Alright, fine. So long as you don't pit me against something like that Risen again."

"No promises."

Kjelle stuck out her hand. "I'm Kjelle. I've heard a lot about you. Pleased to meet you."

Chrom shook, and the knight smiled. "Ooh, nice grip."

Anna beamed. "And I'm Anna! I'll be representing the Secret Sellers for you!"

Chrom quirked an eyebrow. "Which means?"

"She'll be lending a hand with supply procurement and expenditure management," Robin explained. "Trust me, you're not going to find anyone better than her at it, except maybe her sisters."

Chrom scratched his head. "I'll admit, that's not exactly my forte, so a hand there would be appreciated." He gestured about to various individuals. "This is Reflet, my tactician, Emmeryn, the Exalt and my older sister, Lissa, my younger, Knight Commander Frederick, and Wing Commander Phila."

Kjelle was momentarily overcome by the disconcerting realization that all of these people were dead in the era she had come from. "Uh... Hello."

Chrom turned toward Lucina. "By the way, good to see you again, Marth."

"L-Likewise..." Lucina murmured.

Reflet narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge "Marth"'s timid reaction to such a simple statement.

Robin stretched his arms behind his back. "Hey, Chrom, are those rooms in the far end of the west wing still available?"

Chrom snorted. "Of course you would know that... Yes, they are, and before you ask, yes, you can have them."

Robin gave a thumbs-up. "Great, thanks. Now that that's settled, we're going to go find Laurent. Quite a bit of catching up to do with him."

"Wait," Chrom requested. "You still haven't told me what the deal with the New Moon is."

Robin's eyes sharpened. "Trust me, I will later. _In private_."

Emmeryn eyed him curiously.

Chrom's brow furrowed, but he didn't object. "...Very well."

Robin made to exit, but paused. He turned his head toward Emmeryn. "Oh, before I forget... I'm glad to see you well, Emmeryn. I really am."

Lucina pursed her lips. For some reason, she didn't at all care for the gravity she sensed from Robin's tone as he made that declaration.

The Exalt blinked, surprised, but before she could reply, the tactician had slipped out of the room. His companions said their goodbyes, then disappeared shortly after as well.

Reflet's expression was determined. She made to follow after, but stopped when she felt Chrom's hand clasp on her shoulder.

"I think I can guess what you're intending, but it's probably best if you just let it go for now. Besides, eavesdropping's rude." He jerked his head toward the center table. "Come, finish your tea."

Reflet stared pensively at the doorway for a moment longer, then nodded.

* * *

Robin's group did indeed find Laurent in the training grounds, practicing magic on target dummies. They waited patiently for him to finish his routine, a sweeping and impressive display of technical prowess. As he snapped his tome shut, he became aware of the presence of others. He turned, and after a moment passed in which recognition dawned, his eyes shot wide and he hastily strode up to them.

Laurent knelt before Lucina.

"My liege."

Lucina smiled. "You may rise. It's good to see you again, Laurent."

He stood, and swept his eyes over the others. He fixated on the one he recognized. "Hello, Kjelle."

"Glad to see you in one piece, Four-Eyes." She gave him a playful slug on the arm, and blinked in surprise upon doing so. "Whoa. Those biceps aren't half-bad. What have you been up to, man?"

Laurent's eyes were distant. "...Various things."

"Ah, yeah," Robin realized. "I haven't mentioned this to you, Kjelle, but he's been here for three years already."

Laurent's head swiveled toward him. "...You are?"

The tactician extended his hand. "I'm Robin."

Laurent stared at him. Rather than shaking, he reached out and curled his fingers tightly around Robin's hand, as if to cut off escape. He leaned in. " _The Heart?_ " he questioned quietly.

Robin became alert, and Lucina gasped. The princess made to protest, but Robin cut her off by raising his free hand. "It's alright." He turned his attention back to Laurent, locking gazes with him. "I used to be, yes."

Laurent narrowed his eyes. " _Used to_?" he echoed.

Kjelle put her hands behind her head. "Supposedly, this guy popped off Grima all by himself, in another world or time or something. I have a hard time wrapping my head around that stuff. But anyway, he's just strong enough that I believe it now."

Laurent was silent. He looked away, rubbing his chin. "...Rebellious Dragonstone?"

Robin surveyed the man. "...You're different from the Laurent I knew. Something happened to you, am I right? Something went wrong during those three years, didn't they?"

Laurent smiled a bit too sharply. "Yes indeed." He gestured to himself. "Mad, now." He pulled an Arcwind tome out of his coat, which elicited raised eyebrows from all present. "Stronger, though."

Lucina swallowed nervously. "Laurent... What... What exactly occurred during those three years?"

Laurent looked to her fondly. "All alone." His grip on his tome tightened. His voice became slightly strained. "Solitary hell."

Lucina's hand went up to her mouth. "That's...! I'm so sorry! If I had-"

Robin held out an arm, cutting her off. "Easy there. This isn't your fault. You weren't in a position to do anything about this."

The princess held eye contact with him—difficult, given the mask—then nodded.

Laurent found this nonverbal communication very disturbing.

"Lucina, caution." He pointed to Robin. "Unknown agent."

Anna put her hands on her hips. "I'll vouch for him."

"As will I," Lucina declared. "This might be difficult to accept, Laurent, but Robin is acting in our best interests. I certainly grappled with the fact that he was once the Heart of Grima, I'll admit. But he's saved our lives, and he's helping us to grow stronger. You can trust him. And if you cannot, then trust in _my_ trust in him."

Kjelle nodded. "Believe me, Four-Eyes, I hate to say this out loud, but if this guy was our enemy, we would already be dead."

Laurent was evidently unconvinced. "Powerful, then?" he asked.

"More so than anyone I've ever met," Lucina avowed.

Kjelle folded her arms. "Honestly, he could probably take on a Deadlord."

Robin glanced at her. "Have, in fact."

Kjelle snorted. "Bullshit."

"No, seriously. I killed Gallus and helped Chrom take down Mus."

Laurent snapped his fingers to draw attention to himself. He held out his tome. "Demonstration, please?"

Robin frowned. He recognized this set-up for what it was. Still, it wasn't as if Laurent could actually kill him. "Sure thing."

Lucina turned her head toward him. "Is this the best idea?"

Robin waved a hand. "It'll be fine. Besides, he's definitely stronger than he "should" be right now. I want to see by how much."

The two squared off in the sparring ring, while the women took to the sidelines.

Laurent eyed the tactician, who simply stood with his arms crossed. "No weapon?"

Robin shrugged. "Don't need one."

Laurent flipped open his tome. "Very well." He shot out his hand, and sunlight glinted off of his glasses.

Robin smirked. Even if this version of Laurent could use Arc-class magic, he-

" _Arcwind._ "

A torrent of sharp, cutting air streamed out at the tactician.

Robin's eyes bulged. "Oh, _shit!_ "

He disappeared by way of _Pass_ , reappearing behind Laurent. His sword, drawn during the course of the skill, was now held at the man's neck.

Laurent glanced at the gleaming silver. "...My loss," he acknowledged.

Lucina and Kjelle gaped. They had witnessed Robin taking fireballs from Risen mages to the _face_ without so much as blinking, yet in spite of his absurdly high magical resistance, he had felt compelled to evade against Laurent. Even though the mage had been defeated outright, it was a staggering display of strength that he had forced Robin to take the sort of action that he had.

Robin gave a nervous laugh. "Man... You were always good with magic, but I didn't think you would get _this_ good so fast. I'm impressed."

"Unnecessarily patronizing," Laurent responded.

Robin removed his blade and re-sheathed it.

Laurent frowned. "Most distressing."

Robin laughed. "Hey, don't worry. You'll get to my level eventually." He pointed to Lucina and Kjelle. "You're already way closer than these two are."

Kjelle scowled, and Lucina pouted for a brief moment. She couldn't help it.

Robin put his hands behind his head. "Anyway, you've got a solid grasp on wind magic. I'll see if I can find you a Rexcalibur tome."

Laurent narrowed his eyes. "...You'll what?"

Robin smiled. "You don't have to believe me right away, but I'd like to be your friend, Laurent."

Laurent scoffed, then began to laugh, loudly and with a bizarre rhythm. Everyone around him gained expressions of unease; it was starting to become apparent that Laurent's offhand "mad" comment had not been exaggerated.

Eventually, the mage composed himself. " _How precious,_ " he sneered.

Robin shrugged. "Like I said, you don't have to believe me. But the fact of the matter is that I know you. I was friends with the other you, before he died." He reached into his coat's pocket and produced a worn book. "Maybe _this_ will help you to understand." He cracked it open, then uttered a lengthy and complex incantation. Laurent tensed, ready to react to whatever was about to occur.

To the surprise of everyone, a miniature rainbow popped out of the tome.

Laurent stared wide-eyed. "This is... This is..."

"You like pointless tomes, right?" Robin asked. "I picked it up on the way here from a vendor. Thought you would appreciate it." He clapped the book shut, then extended it to the mage. "Here. A gift from me to you."

Laurent hesitated, then wordlessly took it. He swept his eyes over the weathered cover, and ran his fingers over the faded leather binding.

Robin tilted his head. "We don't have to be friends. I can accept that. Just because I was friends with the other you doesn't give me the right to assume the same will hold true here. ...But at the very least, can we not be enemies?"

Laurent was silent for a moment. "...Acceptable terms."

Robin grinned. "That's-"

" _For now._ "

Laurent turned and walked away.

Lucina began to call out to him, but fell short. For some reason, she sensed that he didn't wish to hear her voice at that moment.

* * *

 _Twenty-one days remained until the attempt on Emmeryn's life._

* * *

Robin was introducing the newest additions to the Shepherds to the regulars.

Kjelle abruptly strode up to her father and shook his hand. "It's an honor to meet you," she smiled brightly.

The Shepherds in the mess hall stared in disbelief, some of them only just becoming aware at that moment that Kellam had been dining with them.

"...Three seconds," Miriel breathed. "A new record by a magnitude of order."

Out of frustration that one of her many titles had just been lost, Cordelia snapped a chicken leg in half.

* * *

 _Twenty days remained until the attempt on Emmeryn's life._

* * *

Robin and Lucina were making pleasant conversation as they headed toward the mess hall, both left hungry by an intense training session.

Lucina suddenly fell short, staring down an intersecting hallway as if transfixed.

"What's wrong?" Robin asked. He followed her line of sight, and his eyes settled on a large piano. "Oh. Do you play?"

"No, but..." Her voice caught in her throat. "My mother used to. I had all but forgotten..."

Robin frowned. Lucina had gone to lengths not to formally introduce herself to Sumia, but it was clear that this wasn't what she truly wanted.

"She was... quite skilled," the princess continued. "I was always envious of how easily she could make the keys produce sounds in the sequence that she wished them to. I wanted to be able to do that myself." She looked down. "...That seems like a different lifetime, now."

Robin crossed his arms. "...Well, why not learn how to play in this one?"

She turned toward him. "That's time ill-spent. Any opportunity I have to hone my skills should-"

Robin reached out and flicked her on the cheek, just below her mask.

"Ah!" She tried to swat his hand in retaliation, but was too slow. "What was that for?!"

"You're wound up too tight. You're a human, not a piece of clockwork. People can have hobbies. Risen aren't going to burn down the capital just because you spend a bit of free time every day learning how to play a godsdamn piano."

"And Risen also will not accommodate me just because I decided to be negligent in developing my swordplay!" Lucina snapped.

Robin rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine. You want to make this about training? Ok then, we'll make it about training."

Lucina tilted her head. "...How so?"

Robin grinned maliciously. " _Blackmail._ "

Lucina blinked. "...Pardon?"

"It's simple. If you don't get a hobby that doesn't relate to combat, I'll stop training you."

"What?! That is ludicrously unfair!"

" _Duh._ That's the whole _point_ of blackmail."

Lucina scowled. "Fine, fine! If you're to be so insistent, then I will learn how to play the piano!"

Robin waved his hand. "Hey, don't make this sound like a chore. It doesn't have to be piano. Just something you'll enjoy. A hobby you don't enjoy isn't anything more than work."

Lucina sighed heavily. "...I will confess some interest in playing the piano. Are you satisfied now?"

Robin smiled. "Very."

* * *

 _Eighteen days remained until the attempt on Emmeryn's life._

* * *

Laurent sat in a courtyard, the rainbow tome spilling forth its (immaculate) contents into the grass. He stared into the multi-colored light, an almost (almost) serene expression on his face.

Someone approached him from behind. He did not look up.

"Glad to see you're getting some use out of that thing," Robin said.

Laurent was silent. He ran over the contingency (assassination) plans he had crafted for this individual (several), and once again assessed their probabilities of success (nil).

Honestly, though, those were just (necessary) formalities at this point. The brief (sobering) duel between himself and this man (godhood renounced) had made it clear that Lucina had not oversold his prowess in her letter. If Robin really was an agent of Grima, and was playing a long game (conceivable), then he had already reached a position from which he could put them in checkmate. Nothing was stopping him from killing the royal line and the time travelers in the dead of night, and absconding with the Fire Emblem and both Falchions. And that wasn't bringing up the point that helping to retrieve a potential enemy from inescapable isolation was an utterly irrational move.

And as much as Laurent hated (ironic) to incorporate illogical factors into his considerations, the truth was that he _did_ like this little (wondrously) (insignificant) tome very much.

"...Yes, indeed." He glanced up at Robin. "...My thanks."

Robin smiled. "Don't mention it."

Laurent shut the tome and stood. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them and locked gazes with Robin. "Saved me."

Robin shrugged. "I just gave the details. Chrom and Reflet did the rest."

"Debt owed," Laurent asserted.

"...Can I take it that you helped keep everyone safe from that Entombed?"

"You can."

"Then as far as I'm concerned, we're already square."

Laurent looked away. "...I see."

Robin was silent for a moment, then put his hands behind his head.

"...You want to play chess?"

The lenses of Laurent's glasses flared.

"Sounds delightful."

* * *

 _Seventeen days remained until the attempt on Emmeryn's life._

* * *

Lucina realized that the piano's sheet music had been upside-down the entire time.

* * *

 _Sixteen days remained until the attempt on Emmeryn's life._

* * *

Robin beat Laurent in chess for the first time.

It would also be the last.

Not that Robin was going to complain. The game was boring when only Virion wasn't a sure win.

* * *

 _Fifteen days remained until the attempt on Emmeryn's life._

* * *

Robin tapped his sword on his shoulder, standing in the center of the sparring ring in a manner that could only be described as insolent. Around him, Chrom, Vaike, and Stahl were all bent over double, breathing heavily.

"You guys have _really_ got to stop skipping out on Hell Hour," he mused.

"N-No offense, Chrom," Vaike wheezed. "B-But I think I've gotta make this guy the Vaike's rival now."

Chrom straightened his back and wearily leveled Falchion at Robin again. "I-I think to qualify as a rival, you've gotta be able to _touch_ the guy first..." He frowned. "Wait, since when are _we_ rivals?"

Stahl was resting his hands on his knees, sweat pouring down his brow. "S-So... According to Miriel, I'm the fiftieth percentile. Now, I'm no wizard at math, but, but... multiply me by three-" He gestured to Chrom and Vaike. "-And that makes the one-hundred-fiftieth percentile. And you're like... _way_ above that, Robin." He took a gulp of air. "So that's... that's pretty good..."

Robin scratched the back of his head. "Er, yeah, sorry buddy, but that's not how statistics work."

Stahl shook his head. "I'll... I'll ask Miriel to explain it later."

Out of the corner of his eye, Robin could see Laurent silently watching his father from an open hallway.

* * *

 _Fourteen days remained until the attempt on Emmeryn's life._

* * *

If Lucina was to have been brought up on charges against the piano, at this point, they would have been downgraded from battery to assault.

* * *

 _Twelve days remained until the attempt on Emmeryn's life._

* * *

Virion beat Laurent at chess for the first time.

It wouldn't be the last.

* * *

 _Nine days remained until the attempt on Emmeryn's life._

* * *

"You're pretty damn good, kid!" Sully cackled as she twirled a lance overhead.

"I learned from the best!" Kjelle grinned as she dug her heels into the dirt of the training grounds and raised her shield.

* * *

 _Eight days remained until the attempt on Emmeryn's life._

* * *

Robin looked up from his dinner. "Hm?"

"Guys' night out," Chrom repeated, with most of the male Shepherds standing behind him. "A bunch of us are sneaking out to the _Salty Swordsmaid_ to go drinking. You in?"

Robin tapped his fork against his plate. "Sounds like a great time, and I'm definitely coming. But, um... Here's the thing, though... I'm only going to have one drink, and I'm not going to participate in any of the games."

Chrom frowned. "Why not?"

Robin cleared his throat. "Uh... This is embarrassing, but... Well, the last time I got blackout drunk, I tried to enforce arranged marriages on the Shepherds, with the intent of creating the strongest possible super-soldier children."

Beside him, Lucina stared at him with raised eyebrows.

Well, they weren't visible behind the mask, but Robin could still tell, dammit.

He slammed his fist on the table. "Don't look at me like that! It was for the sake of Ylisse's future!"

Chrom waved a hand. "Um, that's ok, I guess. Not the eugenics, I mean the light-drinking thing." He turned toward Lucina. "What about you, Marth? You care to join us?"

Lucina blanched. "O-Oh. The invitation is most appreciated, but I cannot. I am not-"

Robin gently elbowed her in the ribs.

"Oh, right." She looked back at Chrom. "...Very well. I will join you on this... _guys'_ night out."

* * *

Lucina fidgeted uncomfortably where she sat at the _Salty Swordsmaid_ 's booth. "Robin, I'm entertaining doubts about this."

Robin patted her shoulder. "Relax, you'll be fine. This will be good, clean fun. I'll make sure things don't get too out of hand. You can trust me."

"If you say so..."

"Yahoo! King's Game, King's Game!" Vaike crowed from across the table.

"What's King's Game?" Lucina asked out of the corner of her mouth.

"Every round, the participants draw lots," Robin explained. "All but one are numbered, and whoever gets that one is the king. The king can command any of the players to do anything he wants."

Lucina grimaced. "This seems like a game rife with abuse."

"Yep," Robin nodded sagely, as if he was acknowledging an unfortunate truth about the world.

Virion drew the short stick in the initial round. "In my homeland, it is tradition for the first king to order a round of shots!"

This was met with much cheering, and glasses were set in front of all of the game's participants. Lucina winced, but downed her drink with the rest. She gagged at the taste, but managed to not make a scene.

By mistake, the bartender had placed a shot in front of Robin. The tactician shrugged. "Oh, what the hell." He downed his as well.

Stahl was king next. "Ok, number six has to take _three_ shots!"

"Make that _Teach_ shots!" Vaike yelled as he waved the stick marked six. He drank them all in one go.

Robin swirled his drink in its glass, a particularly strong alcohol made from potatoes. "Hoo boy, here we go."

Chrom was the third king. He blinked in surprise. "Oh. I'm almost never king. Which is kind of funny, if you think about it." He scratched his head. "Hmm... Everyone holds their breath. First to give out takes three shots."

Robin grinned. "See, _he_ gets how to play this game."

The participants did as instructed, their cheeks swollen as they held in as much air as they could. This, in Robin's opinion, was particularly hilarious in Lucina's case, as her mask further accentuated the distortion of her face.

After a few moments, Stahl gave Vaike a quick jab to the solar plexus, which caused the fighter to double over and begin gasping.

"Ah. Vaike it is," Chrom declared.

"Foul!" Vaike coughed. "Foul!"

Chrom turned toward Robin. "Judge?"

The tactician waved a hand. "I'll allow it, but no interference from this point forward."

"Rigged!" Vaike called, but he took his punishment without further complaint, and shortly thereafter began to sway.

There was some confusion at the start of the next round. All of the participants held out a numbered stick.

Chrom frowned. "Wait, where the hell did the king's stick go?"

"Uh, I have it," Kellam answered, waving it about.

Everyone but Robin, who had specifically trained himself to be able to detect Kellam's presence, jumped. Vaike nearly fell out of his seat.

"I'll just do another round all... _around_ , I guess..." the knight trailed off.

Once more, Robin partook. Combined with his own hard drink, a buzz was starting to kick in. This was reinforced to full on light-headedness when Stahl became king and re-upped on Kellam's order.

Vaike was now swooning at this point, and regrettably received the role of king.

"Awright... Enough of this... pansy shit!" he laughed. "Iz time ta... Time ta... Start goin' _hard_." He waved his hands. "Wh-Who haz... number five?!"

Lucina meekly raised up her stick. Robin quirked an eyebrow as he brought up his glass to take a sip.

Vaike jabbed a finger. "Number five has to make out with _Robin!_ "

Lucina flushed tomato red, and Robin's eyes bulged for a moment before he regained his cool.

"Vaike, I'm not in the game, remember?"

The fighter swayed back and forth. "Aw... Daz right. Forgot, forgot. Ok, give me a sec..." He held up four fingers. "Number two!"

Chrom frowned. "Is it two or four, Vaike?"

"Two! _Twooooo!_ " Vaike emphasized belligerently.

Robin chuckled to himself.

Chrom sighed and held up his stick. "Well, that's me."

Robin's glass slipped from his hand, and his mouth hung open.

 _...Oh no._

Lucina's horror was evident by the way she seemed to be absolutely petrified.

Chrom stood up. "Come on, let's get this over with. Rules are rules."

"Th-This seems excessive!" Lucina protested, almost forgetting to alter her voice in her distress.

"Yeah, I'm ruling a no on this one!" Robin declared.

Vaike crossed his arms in a negative gesture. "Nope! Nope! If I can get hit, he can get kissed!"

Most of the rest nodded in affirmation. The will of the crowed was clear.

Sweat beaded on Lucina's brow. One part of her brain argued that this was the perfect opportunity to cement her cover as someone unrelated to Chrom. Another pointed out that she had agreed to this game and all its terms, and quitting would be akin to oathbreaking. A third still called the other parts godsdamn morons—this was her _father_ , for Naga's sake—and begged her to get the hell out of the bar while she still could. These intermingling thoughts, combined with her unfamiliarity with having alcohol in her system and the overall shock inherent to this scenario, caused her to be bogged down in a numb, fear-laden mental paralysis.

The Shepherds began to drum their hands on the table, eerily similar to the drumbeat played on the march to the gallows. Robin took the opportunity the commotion provided to slip out of his seat.

"H-Hold it!" Vaike cried out. "Hold it!"

For a brief moment, Lucina allowed hope to take hold.

"With _tongue_!" he cackled.

Lucina's hope died. Dread kept her rooted to the spot, as if she was a frog pinned by a snake's glare.

Chrom rolled his eyes.

Robin's mind was fully locked into crisis-mode now as he quickly strode to the back of the room, his hand reaching into his coat pocket for a tome. No one had noticed his disappearance.

The situation was spiraling out of control. At this rate, Lucina was going to be forced to kiss her own father.

With _tongue_ , as Vaike had stipulated.

Given the circumstances and his inebriation, Robin did the only reasonable, rational thing he could.

He set the bar on fire.

* * *

Chrom solemnly watched the _Salty Swordsmaid_ 's frame collapse as flames licked the night sky. It was a miracle that no one had been hurt, all things considered.

"...We are _not_ telling Emm about this."

The others nodded silently.

* * *

"...You did that, didn't you?" Lucina asked quietly as she and Robin made their way back to their respective rooms.

"Neither you nor a court of law can prove that."

She was silent for a moment, then laughed. "...Thank you."

"Don't mention it. And I mean that literally this time; I could get in serious trouble."

Lucina shook her head. "It's strange. I've never had to thank someone for committing arson before."

Robin snorted. "Honestly, there's a decent chance this won't be the last time."

"Your methods were certainly... _excessive_ , but given the circumstances, I can't really complain. The fate of the bar is regrettable, though."

The tactician sighed loudly and put his hands behind his head. "Yeah, I'm going to have to make this right somehow. Dammit, and I liked the _Salty Swordsmaid_ , too..."

Lucina rubbed her chin. "You know, I've just realized that I now have a counter to your blackmail."

"So you do. Guess that means you're done playing the piano then, huh?"

A slow smile played on her lips. "No, I think I shall continue to play."

Robin grinned.

* * *

 _Seven days remained until the attempt on Emmeryn's life._

* * *

Robin's hands were steepled, and his expression was dark. "I... made a mistake. To fix it, I need a lot of money, and I need it fast. You're the only one I can reasonably expect to have access to the assets I would need."

Anna, seated across from him in a dark room, raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And how much would that amount to?"

Robin wordlessly slid a sheet of paper across the table.

Anna took it, read it, then burst out laughing.

"You can't be serious," she said after her giggles subsided. "The interest rates for something like this would _ruin_ you, even on a military pension."

Robin shook his head. "Oh, I've no intention of paying interest."

The merchant blinked.

The tactician sat back. "This is a straightforward business transaction."

Anna crossed her arms. "Oh? And what exactly is it that you're offering in exchange?"

Robin smirked. "Let's just say I have a _very_ solid idea of the next few upcoming market trends. _How do you feel about insider trading?_ "

Anna was still for a moment, then grinned.

* * *

In the early hours of the morning, Robin stealthily made his way down to the home of the former proprietor of the _Salty Swordsmaid_. He glanced about to make sure that no one was nearby, then reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a heavy sack of gold coins, affixed to which was a note with meticulously altered handwriting.

 _Sorry I burned down your bar. Here's some gold._

It was a staggering amount of money, but then, Robin _had_ just ruined a person's livelihood.

He knocked on the door loudly, then disappeared with _Pass_. After getting away to a safe distance, he watched quietly until he had seen with his own eyes the bar's owner open the door and pick up the sack. He sighed in relief, then turned to make his way through a back alley.

* * *

 _Four days remained until the attempt on Emmeryn's life._

* * *

If Lucina were to have been jailed for her crimes against pianos, she would now be out on parole.

* * *

 _Three days remained until the attempt on Emmeryn's life._

* * *

Robin successfully used _Sol_ for the first time.

* * *

 _Two days remained until the attempt on Emmeryn's life._

* * *

Kjelle and Laurent were doing their early-morning fitness regimes when Robin and Lucina found them.

"Hey, how about you two wrap this up early so that we can go to the kitchen and make breakfast?" the tactician called.

"Nah, we're good," Kjelle replied dismissively.

Robin jerked his head toward the kitchen. "Hey. Let's go. Make _breakfast_." The emphasis he was placing on his words made his meaning clear.

Kjelle and Laurent stopped what they were doing, then nodded.

The four made their way to the kitchens.

* * *

Robin crossed his arms. "Right, so the cooks don't start their prep work for another hour, and no one else ever comes down here this early. That makes this the ideal time and place for discussing things you don't want overheard."

Kjelle was laying out bacon strips and uncooked eggs on the counter. Evidently, she fully intended to actually make a morning meal.

"We want to have a plan ready," Lucina explained. "Time is very short. The assassination attempt is almost upon us, and we must be prepared."

Robin nodded. "We need to be positioned optimally. I don't want anyone dying due to carelessness."

Laurent seemed distracted. He reached out and picked up an egg.

"Robin will be taking a vanguard position, and will be the only one to engage Validar," Lucina continued.

"As you guys are right now, you could honestly get killed by him using his _Vengeance_ ," Robin said flatly. "That's an unacceptable risk. So I'll-"

Laurent stared at the egg intently as the others debated some facet of the looming confrontation. He could feel something pushing within his mind, straining against the tethers of his subconscious, desperate to be realized (unleashed). All manner of images flashed through his mind: a newborn babe, a slaughtered cow, an Entombed wearing a business suit, the symbols for the Canas Equation. He looked at the egg, and then he looked up from it toward Kjelle. And all at once, he understood (truth).

Laurent reached out, and with one hand, perfectly cracked the egg over Kjelle's head while she was mid-sentence.

Kjelle fell silent, and time stood still.

Robin and Lucina gaped, both too stupefied to be overcome with horror.

Kjelle sat stock-still, the yolk unbroken as it rested atop her hair. Her face was utterly blank.

Laurent's glasses were obscured by lens flare. " _Fascinating,_ " he murmured.

The egg slowly slipped down Kjelle's face before landing on tile with a loud plop.

Time began to flow once more. Laurent blinked, lucidity suddenly his again.

"...Perplexing mistake," he admitted.

Kjelle slugged him in the face.

* * *

 _One day remained until the attempt on Emmeryn's life._

* * *

 **A/N: Well, here we are, two years later... And I'm still not at Chapter Six in-game. Haha. Anyway, this story just hit 800 followers, which I think is wonderful; 61 more and _Another Again_ takes the top slot on the site! That's pretty exciting! Thanks to everyone who's stuck with this story. I can't make any promises about the future of this fic, given that I'm simultaneously pursuing becoming a professional author, but hopefully I'll still be plugging away at this come the third-year anniversary, and if not, then maybe that just means I'm busy writing something that you might enjoy more so. Fingers crossed.**

 **Thanks to TheRepeat for editing.**


	18. Foreseer

**A/N: Yeah, remember how I said the chapter would only be delayed a few days? Sorry about that. You know how real life is. Hopefully I'll have the next chapter out on time to make up for it. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Grand Nyalarthotep Day, etc., etc.**

 **Thanks to TheRepeat for editing.**

* * *

As dusk fell over Ylisse, a Taguel sprinted through the forests surrounding the city of Ylisstol. Panne, the last of her species (or so she believed), sped toward the castle in the distance as quickly as her powerful hind legs could push her.

It had been a chance encounter. She had stumbled onto the band of manspawn by accident, coming to drink at a river downwind of them. Ordinarily, she went out of her way to avoid humans, but her keen ears had picked up the words the leader uttered, a corpse of a man whose red eyes radiated hatred and who reeked of withered darkness. The manspawn around him had smelled of bitter blood; Panne knew assassins when she saw them.

And so Panne now raced. As trees whisked by and fading sunlight gleamed through the autumn canopy, Panne silently swore that she would save the manspawn Exalt, and be free of the accursed debt her ancestors had sworn.

Abruptly, she skidded to a halt, suddenly finding herself unable to progress even an inch forward.

Ahead of her was something terrible; she could smell death and decay and the weight of millennia upon the wind. Her instincts screamed at her to turn tail and flee, to run as far as from whatever this blight against nature was as she was able.

But she would not be deterred from the oath that bound her entire race. As the last beholden to that promise, she could not allow herself to abandon it.

She turned to the left and began to descend a slope, circling around the foul presence and giving it as wide a berth as possible.

* * *

Robin strode through the halls of Castle Ylisstol, his mind a whir. He was feeling the same uneasy sensation he always got in his gut right before a major operation, but there was a different air to his trepidation now; it was outlined by faint hope. This night could be the turning point. If he could succeed here, it was possible that the war for the future would be won with the first salvo. And after all, he had a right to be confident that he and his friends would triumph; they had done so in the same scenario with fewer advantages.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he nearly ran into Kjelle when he turned a corner.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, moron!" Kjelle snapped.

Robin blinked. "Er, sorry, I'm a bit distracted right now." His expression became serious. "Are you ready?"

Kjelle answered with equal gravity. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Robin nodded, then began to walk again. Kjelle fell into step.

"Do you know where the others are?" the tactician asked.

"Haven't seen either of them all day. Laurent's probably in the library; whenever he's not training or playing chess he's got his face buried in some old book. And Lucina-"

Robin suddenly held out a hand, cutting her off. He was listening intently to something. "...I think I can guess."

He took a right turn and led the way down another hallway. As they drew closer to the next intersection, drifting piano music began to come into focus. It was a melancholic tune, lilting and somber. There were still evident signs of the player's lack of experience—an errant note here, a missed beat there. Nonetheless it was apparent that she had a natural talent for the instrument, one that could have shone had the circumstances of her life not forced her to focus solely on honing other capabilities.

The two came to a stop in the large room where the piano was held. They lingered for a moment in the doorway, neither of them willing to interrupt the song. Lucina was wholly engaged in her melody, which as far as Robin could tell, was of her own creation. He silently watched her fingers skim over the ivory keys, and the thought became obtrusive that perhaps in another life this would have suited her better than wielding a blade.

Robin's eyes were distant, his gaze completely focused on Lucina. "Hey, Kjelle..." he murmured, low enough in tone that the princess wouldn't overhear him. "What if I told you that all of our problems could be resolved without you having to fight? What would you do?"

"I'd tell you to shove your shitty hypothetical up your ass."

Robin leered at her. "I'm serious. What would you do if you were given the option to be free from all this? To be free from what's to come?"

Kjelle rolled her eyes, jerking her thumb at Lucina. "Cut the crap. We both know I'm not the actual subject of this little thought experiment of yours. You don't give a damn about me."

The tactician looked mildly hurt. "That's not true. You're not exactly my favorite person, but-"

"Right, that would be Lucina, wouldn't it?"

Robin whipped his head around in surprise, but Kjelle pressed on before he could open his mouth.

"She's not some damsel in distress, idiot. She chose to fight."

He grimaced, fighting an urge to grit his teeth. "I... I know that. Of course I know that." He tightened his fists. "But Kjelle, you haven't _seen_ what can happen to her. I _have_!"

The knight stared at him quietly for a moment. "...Let me tell you something, Robin. None of us expect to come out of all this still alive. We've never had reason to."

Robin's eyes widened.

Kjelle turned back to Lucina. "Even if you offered us a sappy fairy tale ending like that, no strings attached, we'd reject it. It's not something we're ready to believe in. We've had our hopes snuffed out too many times before." She fixed her gaze back on him. "If you want to save her so badly, then the only way to do that is to keep fighting by her side. Understand me?"

Robin's face was pained, but he didn't argue. "...Yeah. I'll save her, and you, and everyone else. "

Kjelle chuckled. "That sounds like something Owain would say. Only he would make such a dumb and naive proclamation."

The tactician snorted. "If I was Owain, I would never shut up about how I technically used to be a god."

"If that load of nonsense actually is true, then it would make for a good pick-up line," Kjelle laughed. "You should try it out sometime."

Robin blinked. "Er..."

Kjelle grinned and nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. "Well, maybe that's the wrong tact if you're aiming for a certain girl."

Robin narrowed his eyes. "Now hold on a-"

The knight turned and began to walk away. "I'm going to find Four-Eyes. We'll be waiting in the barracks."

Robin glowered at her for a moment, then sighed and approached Lucina, who was still in the midst of playing. She seemed to be refining her tune, parsing it for errors and areas that could be accentuated. Robin hesitated for a moment; even though he was less than a foot away from her now, she still hadn't become alert to his presence, engrossed with her efforts as she was. An impulse struck him to leave her be, but he quashed it; there was no time for that sort of sentimentality.

He placed his palm on Lucina's shoulder. To his surprise, though, this act didn't startle her as he had expected; instead, she simply glanced at him and gave a faint smile before returning her eyes to the keyboard. As she made no effort to displace Robin's hand, he simply left it where it was.

"...You're getting fairly decent at this," he acknowledged.

"I appreciate the compliment, but I have quite a way to go," she replied.

There was silence for a few moments before Robin forced himself to speak again. "...We need to go talk to Chrom."

The song abruptly stopped, and the absence of noise was jarring. "...Yes, that would probably be for the best." She stood.

Robin's gaze met hers, and for a moment he resented her mask for obscuring her eyes.

"I must confess some nervousness," Lucina admitted. "Perhaps that's why I've been spending so much time here today."

Robin didn't know how to respond to that, so he simply jerked his head toward the hallway that would eventually lead to Chrom's quarters. "Come on. Let's get moving."

* * *

The new moon had just risen in the starry sky over the courtyard of Castle Ylisstol. Chrom stood with folded arms, staring at Robin and "Marth". He had no idea why he had been brought out to this place in the middle of the night, but he had a hunch that he wasn't going to like the reason.

"I've got to say, I don't care much for how you've held off on telling me what's going on until the last minute," the prince declared.

"We've had good cause to keep tight lips," Robin replied.

Chrom quirked an eyebrow. "Being...?"

Robin looked back toward the palace. "...There's a traitor in our midst."

The prince's eyes shot wide. "What?! That's impossible!"

"It's the truth," Lucina murmured.

Chrom turned to face her. "Who is it?!"

"Hierophant Cornelius," Robin answered.

The prince spun back around to him. "That's ridiculous!"

"Is it really?" Robin snorted. "Is the good father really so devout and selfless that you can't believe him capable of such a thing?"

Chrom hesitated. "Well..." His brow suddenly furrowed. "Alright, so even if I can somehow accept that what you're saying is true, _why did you keep it from me for so long?!_ "

Robin held out a finger. "Firstly, I can't be sure that he's alone in his treachery. In my time, Ylisstol fell to a sudden attack from Plegia's army, while Cornelius was elsewhere. It's possible multiple members of the high command are compromised."

Chrom took a step back. "You... You can't be serious!"

Robin folded his arms. "I have a few leads, but I haven't done any serious digging. I had to avoid making waves, because if the traitors became too nervous, they might have called tonight off."

The prince glanced up at the moon. "And what exactly is happening tonight?"

"...An attempt will be made on Exalt Emmeryn's life," Lucina replied in a low tone.

Chrom's jaw dropped.

Robin held out another finger, not giving his friend a chance to interject. "The _second_ reason that I withheld that information from you... Is that tonight might be the only chance we'll have to put a stop to the coming madness before it even begins."

Chrom tightened his fists. "You... You dare...!" His hand reached down for Falchion. "You dare use my sister's life as a _pawn_?!"

Robin's expression became like stone. "Chrom, I swear to you that I would rather die than allow Emmeryn to do so once more."

The prince stiffened. "..."Once more"?"

Robin blinked, himself surprised. "...Ah, shit, I didn't mean to let that slip out."

Lucina stepped forward, placing her hand over her chest. "I will guard the Exalt with my life. You have my word on this."

"And why should I trust you?!" Chrom growled. "If you knew about this-"

"Validar, the Grimleal Hierophant, the man who revives Grima, will be here tonight," Robin interrupted.

Chrom fell silent for a moment out of shock. "R-Revives Grima?!" he breathed. "There's no way. That can't-"

"It can, and it will, unless we do something about it," Robin said firmly.

His friend swept his arm out. "This could all be a trick! You could-"

Robin disappeared, reappearing behind Chrom in an instant with the use of _Pass_. The prince swallowed dryly.

The tactician sighed. "I'm getting really tired of having to resort to leaning on my abilities to make a point."

Chrom gritted his teeth, but allowed his hand to slip off of Falchion's hilt. "...Alright, alright, I get it. You're on our side, because you wouldn't need help, right?" He turned to face Robin. "So tell me... What do I have to do to keep Emm safe?"

The tactician withdrew a sheet of parchment and handed it to the prince. "These are my instructions for battle formation, positioning, and strategy. Rally the Shepherds, and have them follow this to the letter. Of particular importance are a Taguel named Panne and an orange-haired thief named Gaius. They're friends, so don't hurt them."

Chrom narrowed his eyes. "A Taguel? Are't they ex-" He paused. "...You know what, never mind." He took the paper, a dour expression on his face. "...Alright, I'll handle this. How much time do we have?"

"Not long." Robin glanced toward a row of hedges. "Right, that reminds me... You two! The assholes in the bushes! Come on out!"

There was no response, and for a moment, Robin wondered if he had miscalculated, and the two assassins who should have been present were elsewhere due to unseen influence from the alteration of the timeline. But after a few seconds, two hooded figures leapt from the foliage. All but Chrom, who was too surprised to react, drew their swords. The assailants charged forward, moving in curved patterns in an attempt to disorient their targets.

Lucina didn't bother with theatrics, eschewing a somersault strike for a simple parry before cutting the first assassin down. The second remorselessly took advantage of his fellow's death, darting in with a blow aimed at the woman's temple, but Robin lazily intercepted and then decapitated the man with a clean stroke.

Lucina's mask remained whole, her hair remained unfurled, and her gender remained hidden from her father.

Stillness settled back over the courtyard, and Chrom stared at the corpses in bewilderment. "H-How did you know-" He sighed. "Right, I've already been told the answer to that." He fixed his eyes back on Robin. "Can you really save Emmeryn?"

Robin nodded. "She survived this night in my world, and she'll survive here too."

Chrom folded his arms. "Good enough for me. Let's get to work."

* * *

Laurent watched passively as Shepherds bustled about him, all of them frantic due to the sudden news of an incursion into the castle. Servants had been relegated to the basement for their own safety, and the castle guards were now converging to join forces with the peacekeeping group. Men and women rushed to grab their armor, their weapons, and to hasten to the positions their captain had ordered them to.

"It's begun," the mage murmured.

Beside him, Kjelle nodded. They watched silently as Stahl and Sully marched briskly past them, headed to guard Lissa's room—the princess had already retired an hour prior, and Chrom hadn't liked the idea of waking her so that she could participate in a battle taking place in her own home.

"...Have you talked to your parents?" Kjelle asked once the cavaliers had disappeared from sight.

"Irresponsible indulgence," he replied.

The knight nodded. "Yeah... I get what you mean. Like, how would my mother react if I just went up to her and said "Hey, I'm your daughter"...? She'd probably just laugh at me." Kjelle frowned. "Or worse, she might believe me."

Laurent was grim-faced.

Kjelle crossed her arms. "Ah well. As long as we can spar once in a while, and I can earn a compliment or two from her, then I guess that's good enough."

Laurent smiled, then nodded. He gestured toward the door. "Shall we?"

* * *

"Man, I feel like we got cheated," Sully groused as she leaned against the exterior wall of Lissa's room. "We're not going to see any action up here."

"You could also look at this as winning the lottery," Stahl pointed out. "If we don't fight, we don't get killed." He glanced at the door. "Besides, this is an important duty. We've been tasked with safeguarding a member of the royal family."

Sully suddenly smirked. "You know she asked me if I thought she was "princessy" enough?"

"Yeah? She asked me that, too," Stahl replied. "Personally, I think she's doing just fine."

Sully nodded. "She's a good kid. And she's lucky she's got the Bull and Panther looking out for her."

Stahl raised an eyebrow. ""Bull and Panther"? You don't mean like Cain and Abel, do you?"

"Damn right!" Sully laughed. "You and me, we're going to become even bigger legends than them!"

Stahl looked away. "Uh, I don't think-"

Sully gave him a playful shove on the shoulder. "Aw come on, man, we cover each other great on the battlefield." She leaned in. "And don't worry, I would never try to steal you away from Spectacles."

Stahl flushed almost as red as his fellow cavalier's armor.

* * *

"Unbelievable!" Reflet growled as she walked through a hallway with Chrom, a detachment of Shepherds following behind them. "This is just like him! _Oh hey Chrom there might be some bloodthirsty murderers prowling the corridors, just thought I'd give you a heads up!_ Oh, and you're not allowed to kill two of them for some reason!"

"Better than another Entombed, though, I guess..." the prince muttered.

"And how come _he_ gets to draw up battle plans?! I'm this outfit's tactician, aren't I?!"

Chrom glanced at her. ""Well, Robin supposedly has perfect information to work off of, but if you have input, I'd love to hear it."

Reflet frowned, then unfurled the parchment that contained Robin's strategy for the encounter. "...Man... This is really efficient. If he's got his facts straight, we'll probably wipe out the vanguard in less than five minutes..." She frowned. "Wait a minute... Cavaliers? What does he mean by cavaliers? There's no way they're getting horses in here."

At that moment, an explosion rocked the front of the castle, and smoke and dust began to pour from the far wall. From their vantage point of a second-story window, the gathered Shepherds could just barely make out riders galloping into the courtyard through the breach, with hooded figures trailing behind.

Chrom and Reflet shared a look, neither of them at all amused by the timing of this event.

The prince turned toward his subordinates, who were gaping out at the small sea of Plegian invaders. "Well? What are you all standing around for?! You know the plan! Battle stations, let's move, people!"

* * *

There came a knock on the door of Emmeryn's study. The Exalt looked up from her work—a letter requesting a peace summit with Plegia, in a bit of unfortunate irony.

"You may enter!" she called.

The door opened, and the ones called Robin and Marth stepped into her room. The white-haired man bowed his head. "Good evening, Exalt Emmeryn. I'm afraid I have some bad news: there are intruders within the castle."

Emmeryn's eyes shot wide. "What? What do you mean?"

"It seems to be an attempt on your life, milady. But please, don't be alarmed. We have the situation under control. The Shepherds have already mobilized, and we're prepared for what's coming. I'll have to ask you to remain in this room for the time being, though."

The Exalt took a step forward. "What about Lissa, and Chrom?!"

Robin held a hand out. "Lissa is sleeping in her room, and is well-guarded. And as I'm sure you know, Chrom can take care of himself."

She began to protest. "But-"

"Milady, please calm yourself," the masked one interrupted. "We will do everything in our power to protect you."

Emmeryn hesitated, looking back and forth between the two. Even after having come to live in the palace, the pair had taken pains to keep their distance from her, brushing aside any of her inquiries about them and only engaging in basic formalities before excusing themselves from her presence. It was almost as if they were concerned that they would be interfering in some manner.

She recalled her conversation with Chrom, the one where he confided in her their supposed origins. She swallowed. "Have you... have you seen what is to come?" she asked.

Robin was silent for a moment, then nodded. He made a request that he knew would be impossible for her to refuse. "Emm, please trust us."

The Exalt blinked, momentarily surprised by the man's breach of etiquette in using the nickname only her siblings dared to call her. She didn't respond for a short while, then inclined her head. "...As you wish."

The two bowed, then exited the room, leaving the Exalt with worrisome thoughts.

* * *

"I suppose you'll be heading out now," Lucina murmured.

"Yeah. The formation will fall apart if I'm not pulling my weight." Robin shot a look toward one of the hallways. "Laurent and Kjelle will be here soon enough. They'll back you up."

Lucina raised an eyebrow. "That seems excessive. Wouldn't they be of more use elsewhere? If any enemies make it to me, it will likely be in meager quantities. I should be able to handle any stragglers by myself."

Robin rubbed his arm, abashed. "...The other Lucina was badly injured while defending this entrance. And what's worse, she slipped away without letting Lissa heal her."

It took a second for Lucina to process Robin's meaning. "...You want the others to be here to ensure the same thing doesn't happen to me."

Robin glanced away. "...Yeah."

Lucina stared at him a moment, then smiled. "That's very sweet of you."

Robin flushed. "B-Besides... I have no idea how the enemy might react to a prepared defense. It's possible they'll take some action I hadn't thought of, and we have enough manpower to double down at a few points."

The princess laughed. "Yes, I understand."

Robin cleared his throat. "W-Well then, I'll be off. Gaius isn't going to recruit himself, you know." Without waiting for a response, he initiated _Pass_ and disappeared from sight.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Lucina had trouble fighting off a smile.

* * *

In the darkened streets of Ylisstol, a hooded figure made its way through the city, slowly but surely drawing closer to the castle.

Not a single animal willingly came within a mile of the being. A minor exodus of rats, bats, and stray cats was prompted with each step, and dogs bayed incessantly from the confines of their owners' homes.

* * *

Gaius was beginning to think he had bitten off more than he could deal with.

Breaking into a royal estate was one thing; he stole from nobles all the time. But an assassination? Against Exalt Emmeryn of all people, a.k.a. "the nicest person of all time"? That was a little more heavy than he could handle. Regrettably, though, the lot he had fallen in with didn't seem to be the type that accepted resignations, especially not that scaryass sorcerer in charge of them all.

So, in the interest of self-preservation, he crept alongside his circumstantial comrades, his iron sword held at the ready. His instincts, well-honed from a decade of close calls, warned him that something was off about all this; his group hadn't run into a single wayward sentry yet. Ordinarily, they would have had to deal with three to five guards by the time they had crossed the distance that they had.

Just as Gaius had finished this thought, the would-be assassins stumbled upon the first unlucky bastard to have the misfortune of crossing their path.

Only he wasn't at all surprised, and didn't seem at all at a loss for why there were strangers in the palace. He was just standing there, arms folded, as if he had been waiting for them this whole time.

The Plegians came to a halt, trying to determine what exactly it was this moron was hoping to accomplish. Had they been found out? Was he a decoy, buying time while his friends circled around to ambush them?

The white-haired man waved a hand. "Oh, don't worry, I'm by myself," he called, as if he had read all of their minds. "Welcome to Castle Ylisstol! I'm afraid you've overshot visiting hours by a decent stretch, but that's alright." He drew a sword. "You're in luck; _I can give you a nice and personal tour of the cemetery._ "

The assassins looked at each other, then began to laugh quietly. Gaius had to shake his head.

The man tapped his sword on his shoulder. "Alright, first thing's first, I'll give you all a chance to surrender. You don't want to die, just say so now."

One of the Plegians nodded to a dark mage. "Dirk, off this idiot, would ya?"

The mage was all too happy to oblige. He drew a Flux tome, uttered its incantation, then shot a volley of dark magic at the man.

It collided with his chest, and he staggered backward, eyes bulging as he clutched with his free hand at where he had been shot. The assassins began to laugh anew as he gasped feebly. Gaius sighed. What else had the fool expected?

The white-haired man abruptly stood up straight, displaying an unmarred chest. "Just kidding!" he laughed.

The jaws of the assassins dropped as one.

And then he was upon them, faster than thought. Within one second's passing, he was already in their midst, a whirling dervish whose spinning silver blade swept through assassins as if they weren't even there, staining red carpets a darker shade with blood.

"Wh-What the hell is this guy?!" one of the men managed to shout before being cut down.

Gaius didn't know the answer to that question, but he didn't need to. Screw the job. Treason against the Exalt _and_ having to deal with this freak? No loot was worth this. He immediately turned and began to run, paying no heed to the screams of his dying business partners. (He hadn't liked them anyway.) The thief sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him. The exit was just ahead; if he could just—

The white-haired man suddenly appeared dead ahead of him. Gaius eyes shot wide, and he skidded to a stop, recognizing _Pass_ when he saw it. This was not good, this was not good at all. The thief prided himself on his speed, but it wasn't going to do anything for him here.

The castle's defender flicked his sword clean of blood, then sheathed it. "Hello. I'm Robin."

Gaius gulped. "H-Hi?"

Robin smiled. "And you're Gaius, right?"

The thief's eyes surprised him by somehow managing to widen yet more. "H-How the hell did you know that?"

Robin made a dismissive gesture. "Not important right now. No time to explain. I've got guys to kill, royalty to save, you know how it goes."

Gaius stared blankly.

The man reached into his coat, and Gaius had to suppress a likely suicidal urge to reach for his own knife. He would never draw it in time. This was it, this was the end of the road. If he had just listened to that one raving drunk and invested all of his money into-

Robin withdrew a small couch of sugar candies. "If you defect to our side, I'll give you these."

Gaius wasn't able to register this statement for a moment. "You can't be serious."

"I am."

Gaius weighed his options. His scales happened to assign arbitrarily large values to survival and sweets, and not necessarily in that order.

"Deal." He stepped forward and all but snatched the pouch out of Robin's hand and began scarfing down the contents. "Oh, _man,_ this is some good stuff." He shot the man an askew glance, then nervously extended his hand. "N-Nice to meet you?"

Robin laughed and shook with him. "Good to see you again, Gaius. I'd love to chit-chat, but unfortunately I'm on a bit of a timer." He drew another item from his coat, a golden badge of some sort. "Here, give this to Chrom, and tell him it's from me. The blue-haired guy who's not wearing a mask. He should be on the lookout for you. And if he tries to fight you, just throw down your weapons and surrender. We would never harm an unarmed prisoner."

Gaius had so many questions that they almost left him without words. "Wait, wait. Chrom, as in _Prince_ Chrom? "Surrender"? "Prisoner"?" He glanced down at the badge he held. "And isn't this a Grandmaster's Insignia?!"

Robin tilted his head. "Yeah, why?"

Gaius narrowed his eyes, thinking better of probing for information. "Nothing, nothing. Never mind. I'll do what you asked."

The man (tactician?) grinned. "Great! See you around. Oh, and watch out for a Taguel, she might not know you're on our side. Just book it if you run into her."

Gaius gaped, but before he could collect himself, Robin had vanished. The thief whipped his head about, scanning the empty corridor, then sighed. He fixed his eyes on the insignia he held. Something like this could go for a decent chunk on the black market.

The thief was silent for a moment, then scowled and stowed the emblem away in his rucksack. He turned and began to walk back toward the corpses of the assassins, stepping over the men he had just had dinner with not two hours before.

It would have been easy to run away. But while Gaius considered himself a lowlife, he still had some pride, dammit.

* * *

The hooded figure made its way up the slope leading to Castle Ylisstol.

It was almost as if light refused to fall on the entity.

* * *

Validar knelt in the grass near the castle gate, pale runes of purple fire hovering over the ground in the form of a map. The sorcerer narrowed his eyes. The hexmarks he had placed on his followers were being snuffed out left and right; one group was being picked off in the east hallway, their respective wisps of flame vanishing into thin air. The one sent to take the center had been torn apart as well, and the third in the west wing had somehow been wiped out almost all at once.

He sneered, then rose to his full, towering height. He shouldn't have been surprised; humans, even devoted ones, were frail, worthless creatures. He had been a fool to entrust God's will to those wretches.

Well, no matter. He would show them all the meaning of true fervor soon enough. He shot a baleful look at the remaining Grimleal behind him.

"Come," he hissed. "We go to slay the Nagaspawn."

* * *

Reflet frowned heavily as she brought down the last of a wave of cavaliers with lightning magic.

Chrom withdrew Falchion from a dead thief, then strolled up to her. He took notice of her expression. "Something wrong?"

"I don't know..."

Chrom looked back toward one of the wing's entrances. "Frederick just sent Sumia to report to us. The east wing's secured, with no serious casualties." He snorted. "And obviously, I don't think we have to worry too much about the west. So by all accounts, this seems to be going well enough."

"Almost _too_ well..." Reflet murmured. "No plan is too airtight. There has to be something that can go wrong. And the fact that nothing has yet has got me on edge."

* * *

The hooded figure stood before the castle gate.

Hands clapped together, then touched the ground. A ring of darkness spilled forth, congealing and converging into runes older than the halidom itself.

Six orbs of red light began to burn.

* * *

Lucina tapped her foot nervously as she stared out a window that gave a view of the central courtyard.

Behind her, Kjelle sighed loudly as she leaned against a wall. "Man, this sucks. If I'd known we weren't going to be seeing any action I wouldn't have agreed to be posted here."

Laurent said nothing, eyes fixated completely on the moon. He occasionally seemed to be about to murmur something to himself, then stopped.

"...I do not care for this either," Lucina admitted. "Father is down there, fighting, and I am doing nothing to aid him."

Kjelle frowned, then got up and clapped her liege on the shoulder. "Hey, cheer up. Your dad's way too tough to lose to idiots like these. Besides, he's got Robin helping him. You don't have anything to worry about."

"Not necessarily," Laurent interjected.

The two women turned toward him, and he pointed down the corridor. A large figure was bounding toward them on all-fours.

"Holy shit, is that _Yarne_?!" Kjelle gasped. "What's he doing here?!"

"His mother," Laurent corrected.

Kjelle blinked. "Oh, damn, you're right! Man, she even has all her legs in this era!"

"She must have entered the castle through the hole in the wall Father made in his youth," Lucina realized. She stepped forward. "Hold, Lady Panne! We are allies!"

The Taguel skidded to a stop. But something about her seemed off. The Taguel was quaking, and she didn't bother to question why Lucina knew her identity.

"S-Something is coming," she whimpered. It was a startling tone from the proud woman Lucina had known, but it was a whimper nonetheless. "Something wicked. Something like living darkness. Manspawn, take your Exalt and flee at once!"

Lucina frowned. "What do you mean? Do you speak of Validar?"

Panne didn't know who Validar was, but she was certain that he wasn't the source of her fear. She shook her head back and forth.

Laurent looked back out the window. "...Something worse..." he murmured.

* * *

Robin arrived in the exterior courtyard, silver sword at ready. He was feeling light of breath; he hadn't felt this nervous in ages. As blithe as he had been about killing his father, it still wasn't going to be something as simple as snapping his fingers.

He pressed himself flat against brickwork, then edged his way to the corner to peek out and assess what remained of the sorcerer's forces.

Only empty grass met him. Validar wasn't where he was supposed to be.

Robin's eyes widened.

 _...Something is wrong. Something is very wrong._

Another alteration to the timeline? Had he miscalculated somehow? Had Validar entered the palace in response to a particular occurrence, rather than after a set amount of time like Robin had initially believed?

Robin grimaced and began to sprint across the grounds. This wasn't good. He was supposed to neutralize Validar before the man became an active influence on the battle. If the sorcerer-

The castle gates exploded in a shower of stone and dust, the iron bars being tossed away like a leaf in the wind.

Robin came to a stop, only about thirty feet away from the disturbance behind him. He stared dead ahead, almost refusing to believe what he had just heard.

Hulking, pale golden forms sloughed through the shadows, the tops of their sackcloth heads skimming along the top of the entrance they had forcibly expanded.

The tactician slowly turned his head.

Six pairs of glowing red eyes peered at him from across the courtyard.

"Wh-What the hell?" Robin breathed. " _What the hell?!_ " Sweat began to bead on his brow.

The Entombed began to take lumbering steps, their gazes fixated on the lone figure before them.

Robin had no time to question where these Risen had come from, or why they were here. There were no reinforcements to call, nor would they have mattered even if they could have appeared. He was the only thing standing between these Entombed and the complete destruction of Castle Ylisstol, and the deaths of everyone in it. He could not afford to retreat; he could not even afford to search for a better battlefield, one that might mitigate the risk of having to fight six of the behemoths at once.

Since he had woken up in that second field, Robin had experienced worry, distress, and even alarm. But as the group of Risen approached him, as they drew within ten feet of him and tilted their heads in curious appraisal, their bodies close enough together to be like a golden wall, Robin was forcibly reminded of an emotion that he had not been acquainted with since the battle atop Grima's back.

For the first time since he had arrived in this era, Robin felt fear.

He swallowed dryly and drew his blade.


	19. Foreseer II

Reflet put her hands on her hips. "Hey... Did anyone else hear something just now? Like off in the distance?"

Chrom looked toward her. "What do you mean?"

She frowned, considering for a moment, then shook her head. "Nah, never mind. It was probably just my imagination."

Chrom suddenly became alert. "Wait, I hear it too." He drew Falchion, then angled his body toward the hallway that led into the palace's center. The other Shepherds in the detachment also caught notice of the noise, the sound of a runner's footsteps.

"A messenger from Frederick?" Chrom wondered.

The figure came into sight, orange hair standing out against the gloomy background. The Shepherds, not recognizing the stranger, all drew their weapons.

Gaius threw up his hands. "Whoa, whoa, take it easy there! I'm not on their side, I swear!"

Chrom furrowed his brow. "Wait... You wouldn't happen to be Gaius, would you?"

The thief's eyes widened in surprise. "How'd you know that?!" He glanced away. "That Robin guy knew my name, too... Man, what the hell is going on?"

"My name is Chrom, Prince of Ylisse." He considered for a moment. "...So, can I take it you've come to join us?"

Gaius nodded. "Yeah. Breaking and entering's one thing, but assassination isn't really my cup of tea. Not that I drink tea; that crap's way too bitter..."

Reflet narrowed her eyes. "Hold on a minute, are you saying that you were trying to _steal_ from us?"

Gaius winced. "Er..."

Chrom scratched his chin. "Hmm..."

Reflet crossed her arms. "So why should we trust you, Mr. Thief?"

"Uh... Ah, yeah, just remembered!" Gaius exclaimed. "Robin wanted me to show you something. I'm going to reach down for it now, alright?"

"Sure, buy try anything funny, and you fry on the spot," Reflet warned, holding out a Fire tome.

The thief dug into his satchel, them produced a gold insignia. He tossed this to Chrom.

The prince nearly dropped it in surprise. "What the-?! This is a Grandmaster's Emblem! How on earth did you get your hands on one of these?!"

Gaius blinked. "Uh, that Robin guy gave it to me. Told me you'd recognize it."

Chrom stared at the badge for a moment, then scowled and tucked it into his pocket. "That bastard always has to make a show of everything, doesn't he..." the prince grumbled. He turned his attention back to Gaius. "Well, you have Robin's endorsement, so I'll overlook your circumstances for being here." He stuck out his hand. "Welcome aboard."

Gaius stepped forward and shook, visibly relieved. "Thanks. You won't regret this, I promise. You need someone for recon, I'm your man." He snapped his fingers. "Oh, right, speaking of which: that sorcerer guy is leading all of his remaining men straight for the center of the palace as we speak. Nearly ran into them on the way here."

" _What?!_ " Reflet shouted. "Why didn't you mention that sooner?!"

" _Excuse me_ for prioritizing not getting set on fire!" Gaius snapped.

Reflet hurriedly opened the parchment containing Robin's battle plan. "Ok, we're right here," she said hastily, pointing to a section of the map. "Where did you come across those assassins?"

Gaius rubbed his chin. "Hmm... Probably right around... _here_ ," he answered, jabbing his finger into the paper.

"And how many of them were there?"

The thief shrugged. "Don't know, didn't get a good look before I booked it. Maybe ten, maybe fifteen?"

The tactician turned toward her commander. "Chrom, this wasn't mentioned in the plan. I have no idea if Frederick's group can handle this. We need to move to intercept." She pointed to a corridor on the map. "If we hurry and take this route, we might be able to cut them off."

Chrom nodded, then turned toward the other members of the Shepherds and the palace guard. "You heard her! Let's move!"

* * *

Validar strode with brisk purpose through the den of Naga's brood. His time of glory was almost at hand; he would put an end to the whore's line and scatter her followers to the winds of ruin.

The door ahead opened, and the scout who had been sent ahead slipped through. He sprinted to the sorcerer, immediately dropping into a reverential kneel.

"Lord Validar, a legion of Ylissean filth bars the way ahead. Their number is nearly two-thirds our own, and they are headed by Frederick, the Knight Commander."

He said nothing, staring down at the hooded man for some moments. "...I do not understand this. The harlot Emmeryn was supposed to be lightly guarded. Why do we encounter such resistance?" He considered. "...Bah. We've no time to waste on this rabble." He turned toward one of his commanders. "You. Take our remaining horsemen and engage them from their left flank. Draw their attention with a quick strike, then fall back and bait them into following you. We will take advantage of the opening you offer us."

The cavalier bowed his head. "Yes, milord!"

Validar watched the group depart, then waited for a few minutes. Soon, a distant clash could be heard echoing off the walls and down the hallways. The sorcerer gave his signal, and he and his followers began to advance once more. They emerged into a wide room, and Validar found five palace guards waiting for him. Apparently the Knight Commander hadn't been imprudent enough to forego leaving behind a rearguard.

Not that this mattered to Validar. The Ylisseans became alert, and all angled their halberds at him. Before any of them could move, though, Validar had already slipped his Arcfire tome from his sleeve into his palm. He conjured a ball of purple flame, then swept it wide, drawing a swathe across the unfortunate soldiers. They fell to the ground, screaming and flailing as the eerie fire consumed them. Validar gave a smile of satisfaction, then nodded for his followers to continue onward. They stepped over the bodies of the still-dying men, not even offering the courtesy of a quick end.

After all, none of them felt that Ylissean dogs deserved such a gift.

"The Exalt's room should not be much farther ahead, milord," one of the assassins murmured. "We need merely take this hallway ahead, or cut through the central courtyard, and we will arrive at a stairwell."

"We'll continue on in the interior's shelter," Validar replied. He had of course been well aware that Emmeryn's quarters were on the second floor; it was why he had dispatched the remainder of the cavaliers, whose mounts couldn't scale the flight of steps. By now, these men were likely dead; Validar didn't even need to use his monitoring hex to be sure of this. Outnumbered and pursued by one of Ylisse's mightiest defenders, the cavaliers had never stood a chance.

Still, thing were going smoothly. Aside from the earlier-

The doors ahead of them to their right flew open, and the assassins were faced with a legion of Ylisseans that was double their number.

" _What?!_ " Validar hissed.

There was a moment of silent stillness for a moment; both factions hadn't been prepared for such an immediate encounter.

Then the two sides tore into each other.

"Feh. Yet more gnats?" Validar growled as he stepped backward, hurling wreathes of purple flame at palace guards. "What is the meaning of this?!" He turned toward one of the Grimleal. "You! Hold them here! Offer up your lives to God if you must, but do not allow them to follow me! My task is yet unfinished!"

"Yes, milord!" the devoted shouted. "Glory to Grima!"

Validar sprinted toward an unguarded door.

* * *

Frederick eyed the last of the slain horseback assassins. They all had born proud smiles on their faces, even as they had died. The Knight Commander had heard of this before; his own father had described the expressions that Grimleal zealots had worn during the Ylissean Crusade. A pit began to grow in Frederick's stomach.

These were the faces of men who had been glad to die for a cause.

"We're returning," he declared. "Something about this does not sit well with me."

"Yessir!" Sumia replied. She and the rest of the regiment ran after the Knight Commander, their speed hampered by their lack of mounts.

When they returned to the room they had been positioned in, they found charred corpses. Frederick stared with wide eyes at these, then scowled and gritted his teeth as he began to run toward the door that led deeper into the palace.

"We've been had! Come, hurry! The Exalt's life depends on it!"

* * *

Gaius grunted as he caught an assassin's blade with his own. A retreating figure caught his attention, and he was almost taken off-guard by a second stroke.

"Hey!" he yelled toward Chrom. "Validar's getting away!"

Chrom stiffened in surprise, Falchion lodged in a Grimleal's gut. "Validar?! The Hierophant?!"

"Isn't he the one Robin was supposed to take care of?!" Reflet asked, her question immediately followed up with a barrier incantation.

"Did something happen?" Chrom murmured. He scowled, then cut down another assassin. "Dammit! We can't let that guy get near Emm! Reflet, come on, we're going after him!"

"Right!"

The two of them broke off from the engagement, then made a dash toward the courtyard.

* * *

In the hallway on the second floor overlooking the the courtyard, Panne's bur bristled. " _It's here!_ "

Lucina and the others immediately turned to face in her direction, weapons held at ready. "What do you mean, Lady Panne?!" the princess asked.

"It's ahead, just around the corner," Panne whispered, legs trembling. "It is like a nightmare given form."

The three time travelers shared a look. They nodded as one, then prepared to advance.

And then, in one instant, Panne's demeanor changed. She sat back on her hind legs, rearing up to her full height.

"...It's... It's _retreating._ "

"Retreating?" Lucina echoed.

"Whoever it was must have sized us up and gotten scared off!" Kjelle grinned.

"Valid possibility," Laurent murmured.

"What was it, though?" Lucina wondered. "A Risen?"

Kjelle folded her arms. "Could be. But what Risen would have enough brains to run away?"

"A Deadlord," Laurent replied gravely.

The two turned to stare at him, eyes wide. "But that's impossible!" Kjelle shouted. "They're all gone! Our parents saw to that!"

"In our time, yes," Lucina considered. "But perhaps the Grimleal were able to create some number of Deadlords before Grima's revival..."

Laurent fixed his attention back on the hallway where Panne had sensed the presence. "Pursuit, milady?"

Lucina contemplated this for a moment, then shook her head. "No, it could be a diversion. And if there's one unknown factor in this palace, then there could be yet more. We can't afford to leave Exalt Emmeryn inadequately guarded."

Panne's head suddenly swiveled to face the window. "I smell him! That manspawn! The one who reeks of darkness!"

Lucina became alert. "What?!"

"Down below. He's moving through the courtyard."

The princess sprinted to the window. She could faintly make out a tall man with dark skin and dark hair.

"Is that... Validar?" she breathed. She stiffened, and felt a knot form in her gut.

If Validar was here, then where was Robin?

* * *

Chrom and Reflet burst out into the courtyard, finding the sorcerer just about to cross the threshold back into the palace.

" _Validar!_ " Chrom bellowed. "Face us, you craven!" He leveled Falchion at the man.

The leader of the Grimleal stopped, and slowly turned to face the two. Reflet felt herself instinctively tense up; something about this person was off-putting, something other than his red eyes that glowed like embers, something underlying and sinister.

The sorcerer tilted his head. "Oh...? Could it be?" He narrowed his eyes for a moment, staring directly at Reflet, and then his lids snapped open, and a malevolent grin spread across his face. "Aha! It really is you! To think that this is where I would find you, after all these long years... Robin!"

Reflet's brow furrowed. "What? He's not-" Her eyes shot wide. "...Wait... You're... Are you talking about _me_?!" She swallowed dryly. "J-Just who are you?! How do you know that name?!"

Validar smiled sinisterly. "Ah, I suppose we never were properly introduced, were we? After all, your worthless mother stole you away when you were so young." He shrugged. "No matter. We can become properly acquainted once we've returned to Plegia."

""Returned to Plegia"?!" Reflet echoed. She clutched her tome tightly against her chest, her breathing beginning to become erratic. "My _mother?!_ "

Validar extended his hand. "Come with me, Robin. Assume your rightful place at my side!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!" she screamed.

Validar straightened his back. " _Woe to the children of Man, who tremble and cower in fear,_ " he intoned.

Reflet stared into space, the next verse coming unbidden to her lips. " _...W-Woe to the children of Man, for the Fell Dragon's return draws near._ "

Chrom glanced to her with worry. "Reflet?!"

Validar narrowed his eyes at Chrom. "Ah yes, I had almost forgotten about you, Nagaspawn! My, to think that my chance to slay Chrom of Ylisse would come so soon... This truly is a wondrous night." He pointed a finger at him. "And you've brought me such generous presents! The accursed Falchion, which I will pry from your dead hands, and the Fire Emblem, the key to God's revival!"

"Like hell!" Chrom shouted. He charged forward. "Come on, Reflet, we're taking this bastard down!"

"Chrom, wait!" Reflet pleaded, her voice strained.

"Do _not_ call her by that ridiculous name," Validar hissed. He raised a hand, and a plume of purple flame sprang from his palm. The _Arcfire_ sped across the courtyard. Chrom brought up the Fire Emblem to shield himself, and the spell exploded against its indestructible surface, its heat licking at his face. Chrom growled and staggered backward from the force. Validar mercilessly took advantage of this opening, firing off another shot while his opponent was off-kilter. The prince's eyes widened as the fireball homed in on him.

" _Chrom!_ " Reflet shouted, shortly before her own name as an invocation. A barrier pane appeared to intercept the fireball, but Validar's spell was too powerful. It strained against its impediment for a moment, and then the prismatic wall cracked before breaking apart with tremendous force. Though the _Arcfire_ traveled no further, the reaction's shockwave knocked Chrom off of his feet, sending him tumbling.

"So you're wielding that heresy after all..." Validar murmured. The sorcerer calmly raised his hand into the air, and a thin red aura coated the limb. "It changes nothing. You cannot save him, Robin."

Reflet swallowed dryly. The atmosphere was changing, and she could feel inexplicable nausea creeping through her. There was a pounding in her head, and she dropped to her knees as Chrom struggled to his feet.

Validar drew closer, his arm held out all the while.

" _Anathema._ "

Chrom howled and charged at the man, Falchion held up defensively.

Validar lazily dragged his hand down to point at the prince. " _Arcfire._ "

The spell shot forward, and for a moment, it seemed that Chrom would easily dodge. But then he faltered, as if tripped by an unseen snare. He only barely managed to bring up the Fire Emblem to guard in time, but the spell caught its edge at an odd angle, and the forced wrenched the shield away. The movement dislocated Chrom's shoulder with a sickening noise.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment.

Validar snapped his fingers, and the fireball exploded, a wave of searing air throwing Chrom aside. He landed with a dull thud some feet away, smoke rising from his midriff. He strained to rise up on all fours, then collapsed, completely still.

Reflet stared blankly with numb horror.

" _Chrom!_ "

* * *

" _Father!_ " Lucina cried, hands pressed flat against the window's glass.

"Shit, they're in trouble!" Kjelle muttered. "We have to go back them up! Come on, let's take the stairs!"

"No time," Laurent declared airily. He drew his Arcwind tome. "Stand back."

Kjelle's brows shot up. "Laurent?! What are you-?!"

She wasn't given a chance to complete the question. Kjelle and Lucina threw themselves out of the way as Laurent pointed a hand at the window. With a flurry of wind, the glass shattered, all of its shards expelled outward. Laurent hopped onto the sill, then unceremoniously leaped off of it.

" _Is he insane?!_ " Kjelle yelled. She blinked. "...Oh, right, yeah, he actually kind of is."

Lucina scrambled back to her feet and rushed to the opening Laurent had made. The mage stood unharmed, the grass around him flatted by his evident use of _Arcwind_ to cushion his landing. The princess breathed a sigh of relief then turned back toward Kjelle. "I-"

"Yeah, I know," the knight interrupted. "Get going. Don't worry, we'll keep the Exalt safe. Isn't that right, Panne?"

"Don't condescend to me, manspawn," the Taguel growled. "And how do you even know my name?"

Lucina locked eyes with her friend, then nodded and sprinted for the stairway.

* * *

Validar glowered at the newcomer, who stood in a sea of broken glass. "What insolence is this...?"

"Laurent?!" Reflet gaped, still struggling to process the mage's theatrical entrance.

He dusted himself off, watching the sorcerer warily. The two men wordlessly locked eyes from across a distance of fifteen feet, and then at the same time threw their hands out.

" _Arcfire!_ "

" _Arcwind!_ "

The two spells collided in midair with a burst of light and heat.

Validar sneered as the flames faded away, and he jabbed his arm upward again, a red glow replacing the purple illumination. " _Anathema!_ "

Laurent frowned, a vein bulging in his neck as he fought the cloying sensation of the hex. "How irksome..." he murmured.

Reflet felt the surge of discomfort rush through her again, and she still couldn't manage to stand upright. However, Validar's back was now facing her, and she didn't intend to allow that opportunity to pass. She drew her Thunder tome from her coat, flipped open its pages and whispered its incantation under her breath.

Laurent, having taken notice of this, pressed his own assault with perfect timing, casting another _Arcwind_ at the sorcerer. Validar reacted as anticipated, countering with his own Arc-class spell. Though the two attacks once again cancelled each other out, Validar was left unwittingly exposed, and paid for it when the _Thunder_ connected directly with his side.

" _Gah!_ " The sorcerer staggered forward, his hand flying out to his back. The damage wasn't enough to hamper his ability to fight, but his flesh was seared, and blood was pooling beneath the skin from ruptured vessels. Validar whipped his head around to face his daughter, rage burning in his eyes. "It seems you're fostering a rebellious streak, Robin! I'll quell that here and now!"

Laurent's eyebrows raised, first at the usage of Reflet's original name, then at the peril she was now in. He jabbed the flat of his own palm at the sorcerer. " _Arcwind!_ " he shouted, once more deliberately trying to draw Validar's attention.

The sorcerer simply smiled at him, and Laurent immediately understood that he had made a tactical error. The _Arcwind_ slammed into Validar just as he cast _Arcfire_ at Reflet, and he was lifted from his feet, buffeted by razor-sharp blades of wind before he was unceremoniously dropped onto the ground as the magic petered out.

While this was occurring, Reflet hastily formed a barrier to intercept the oncoming _Arcfire_ , but as was the case before, her defense was insufficient for magic of the spell's caliber. She grunted as the backlash washed over her, sending her rolling roughly across the grass. Though this bruised her and winded her, it also mercifully put her out of the range of Validar's _Anathema_ , and she suddenly felt as if she could breathe clearly again.

This relief was short-lived, though. Validar rose, blood leaking from minute cuts across his body. Though it wasn't comparable to Robin's, it seemed that his magical resistance was nothing to ignore.

Laurent swallowed dryly. "Insufficient force."

Validar grinned, reveling in the realization that his opponent understood what was about to transpire. He clenched his fists, and a wreathe of lilac flame began to dance around him.

" _Vengeance,_ " the sorcerer hissed.

He swept his arm wide, and a massive bout of purple fire sped toward Laurent. The mage grimaced and did what he could to counter with _Arcwind_ , but the sudden increase in Validar's offensive prowess pushed through his protection. Laurent was bowled over from the strength of the detonation, only barely saved from immolation by his winds diverting the course of the flames. He coughed, the weight of _Anathema_ pressing down on him all the harder now that he was injured.

Reflet immediately attempted to come to his aid, firing off another _Thunder_ spell at Validar.

He turned and caught it in his palm, gleefully allowing the electricity to soak through his skin and tear through his flesh. Smoke rose from his hand even as the tightening of his neck muscles made clear the pain he was enduring.

Reflet's eyes widened. "Shit!" she breathed.

"No good!" Laurent shouted, giving voice to the same thought that she had just had. "Strengthening him!" The mage was back on his feet and slowly circling Validar, carefully attempting to place himself within range of Reflet's barrier spells.

Validar became cloaked in the fires of _Vengeance_ once more, and Reflet gulped. They needed to finish the man off in one blow, or his skill would cause his power to quickly spiral out of control. Spells that were already difficult to contend with would become impossible to handle if Validar was given any further injuries that failed to kill him.

To accentuate this, Validar smirked and threw his arm out at Laurent, unleashing a torrent of fire. The mage cursed under his breath, the effect of _Anathema_ dampening his capacity to evade and forcing him to counter with his own insufficient power. This time, he had help, though. When Validar's _Arcfire_ overwhelmed Laurent's _Arcwind_ , Reflet's barrier manifested before him just in time to protect him. The flames licked the glass-like pane before dissipating harmlessly.

Validar frowned at the tactician. "Why do you waste your effort on this filth? Why do you rebel against me? Why do you refuse _his_ gift?" He placed a hand over his chest. "Come with me, Robin. Reclaim the destiny that was gifted to you!"

Reflet glanced to a comatose Chrom some distance away from her. She glared back on the sorcerer. " _Shut the hell up!_ " she shouted. "Why would I ever join you, you freak?!"

Validar tilted his head. "Do the bonds of blood mean so little to you?"

Reflet's face became blank. "...What?"

The sorcerer spread his arms. "Would you really rebel against your own father, my child?"

Her jaw dropped.

Laurent's eyes bulged.

" _Y-You're lying!_ " Reflet yelled. "Why should I believe a word you're saying?!"

Validar took a step forward. "You are fated for greatness, Robin. You-"

An _Arcwind_ flew at his face, and he narrowly countered it with his own spell. He turned to glower at Laurent.

" _Wrong name,_ " the mage said in a cutting tone.

Anger flared in Validar's eyes. "I grow tired of you, worm." He conjured flame. "Go now into hellfire. Lament your impiety. Cry into the darkness, and fear how God will answer!"

"Sermon wasted," Laurent replied. "I'm agnostic."

Validar opened his mouth to unleash his spell.

Reflet snapped into action, crafting a domed barrier around him. Her father's eyes shot wide, and he tried to cancel out his attack, but it was too late. Though the _Arcfire_ was powerful enough to pierce through the shell, when it did so, the counter function activated, and beads of light formed and burst all along Validar's body.

A moment later, the _Arcfire_ connected with _Arcwind,_ but this time, Laurent found his movement suddenly unimpeded, and was able to leap far enough out of range to only come away with minimal injuries.

Reflet held out her hands. "Oh! The _Anathema_ 's gone! Maybe that actually killed him!"

"Be wary," Laurent murmured, staring at the cloud of smoke where the sorcerer had stood. Reflet snapped back to attention, trying to catch some sight of what the plumes concealed.

A bout of fire burst from the smoke, greater in area and intensity than any that had come before it. Alarmed, Laurent abandoned any notion of defense, and instead used his _Arcwind_ to propel himself out of the spell's path. He landed gracelessly, thrown forward not only by his own momentum, but by the blast radius of the spell. He grunted and struggled to a kneel.

The smoke cleared to reveal Validar standing upright. Part of his robes had been burned away, and sear marks covered his exposed skin. But he showed no signs of faltering; his eyes shone with zealotry.

"Wh-What the hell is this guy?!" Reflet whispered.

At that moment, the doors of the courtyard's northern exit flew open. The participants of the battle turned as one to face a masked figure, who held Falchion at ready.

"Marth?!" Reflet shouted.

Validar squinted, and then his eyes widened. "What...?! How can this be?! Falchion?!" He swiveled his head to regard Chrom some distance away, who still unconsciously clung to his regalia. The sorcerer processed this for a moment, then returned his gaze to the intruder. Was it a sham? Or another Nagaspawn?

He shook his head. Such a thing was insignificant. This Ylissean would die just like the rest.

Lucina dashed toward Laurent, who was the closest person to her.

"Splendid timing," the mage smiled.

The princess shot a worried look to her father. "How is he?"

"Still alive," Laurent answered. He narrowed his eyes at Validar. "...At present."

Reflet's gaze swept back and forth between her two allies, mind racing with possibility now that she had another variable to work with. An idea struck her, and her expression lit up. "Laurent!" she called. "Do you remember that thing we did with the Entombed and the rock?"

Laurent blinked, then nodded. "Intent understood!" His brow furrowed. "Evasion problematic!"

"I'll handle it!" Reflet yelled back. "You just-"

Validar fired off a volley of flame magic, though he didn't strengthen it with _Vengeance_ this time. Reflet yelped as the spell barreled toward her. She hastily summoned a barrier to brunt the blow, but was thrown onto her back from the impact when the spell shattered.

Validar tilted his head. "Robin, I would greatly prefer not to damage your body beyond repair. Do not attempt to impede me any further."

The tactician groaned, the wind knocked out of her. It was a struggle just to lift her head.

The sorcerer turned back toward his other opponents. "Now then... As for the refuse..." _Vengeance_ cloaked him once more.

Laurent turned toward his liege, holding up his Arcwind tome. "Lucina. Fly."

She straightened her back in surprise. "What?!"

Purple fire gathered in Validar's palm.

"No time!" Laurent warned. He clenched his tome between his teeth and crouched down, cupping his hands into the form of a foothold.

She whipped her head back toward Validar, who was just at that moment releasing his _Arcfire_. Wordlessly she spun to face away from Laurent and placed her boot's heel in his palms.

" _Arcwind!_ " Laurent shouted through a muffle, augmenting the spell to remove its offensive purpose and focus its potency into propulsion.

Lucina went rocketing into the air, soaring over the _Arcfire_ in a somersault, Falchion spinning like a saw-blade. Laurent frantically threw himself to the side as soon as she had been released, knowing full well that he would likely be injured by Validar's attack regardless.

The sorcerer whipped his head upward in shock. " _What?!_ "

But before he could react, his avenue of escape was cut off.

" _Reflet!_ "

Two barriers appeared on Validar's left and right sides, inches away from his skin. His eyes bulged as he bumped into the glass-like surface, the realization dawning on him that he was trapped. By the time he had turned his head back toward Lucina, she was already upon him.

Falchion cleaved through Validar's right shoulder, cutting within a hair's breadth of his lung. He howled in pain as Lucina shot past, the princess colliding with the ground in a prolonged and painful tumble that nearly wrested her regalia from her grasp. Validar staggered forward, eyes swiveling as he clutched the gaping wound with his remaining working arm, his blood cascading down his side.

" _Yes!_ " Reflet crowed.

Validar teetered. For a moment, it seemed that he would collapse.

Then he stiffened his back, and emitted an eerie scream before driving the fingers of the left hand into his gash.

"Wh-What the hell?!" Reflet shouted. " _Wh-What?!_ "

Laurent grimaced. "Not good..." he murmured.

The fires of _Vengeance_ began to dance around Validar once more, but they towered higher and higher as he widened the injury he had been given.

"He's bringing himself to the brink of death!" Lucina realized.

"O-Oh no..." Reflet breathed, horror striking her.

Validar grinned manically, clinging his tome to his chest. He inhaled deeply, then bellowed at the top of his lungs.

Reflet and Laurent both began casting spells at the same time.

" _ARCFIRE!_ "

Purple flame erupted from Validar in all directions, covering a radius of ten feet around him. The force from the explosion rippled out across the grass, smashing through Reflet's three summoned barriers and pushing through Laurent's wind. Reflet, Lucina, Laurent, and Chrom were all scattered like leaves in a storm.

Wisps of flame dissipated into the air, and Validar panted heavily. After some moments, despite the near-lethal amount of damage he had taken, he composed himself, sweeping his eyes over the courtyard. Four prone figures were splayed far from him. His daughter and the masked Nagaspawn were stirring, but the mage and Chrom didn't move.

Validar considered seeing to it that the meddlesome mage was dead, but decided against, given that all three of his most important targets were on the other side of the expanse. He began to take brisk and purposeful strides toward them.

Lucina gave hacking coughs. Out of all of them, she had fared the best, and was the only one who could still stand. She hurriedly checked her father's pulse, and found that it was still there. This concern alleviated, she rose and leveled Falchion at Validar.

She suddenly felt a hand grasping her ankle.

"W-Wait..." Reflet pleaded. She managed to drag herself up to a sit.

Reflet was well aware that the situation was hopeless now. Even with their foe in the condition he was, there was no overcoming his _Vengeance_ at this point. Since defeat seemed inevitable, she did the only thing that she could.

She surrendered.

"L-Listen!" she called out to Validar. "I want to make a deal!"

Lucina shot an alarmed glance at the tactician, and Validar paused.

"Y-You said you want me to come back with you to Plegia, right?!" Reflet continued. "Well, I'll do that, but only if you don't hurt anyone else!"

Lucina's eyes widened.

Validar smirked. "You're in no position to be making deals, Robin." He pointed a finger at Lucina. "The Nagaspawn will die. That is divine decree."

Lucina sunk into a low stance. "We'll see about that."

The situation was desperate, and she knew it. She tightened her grip on Falchion's handle.

Validar thrust his palm into the sky, the wisps of flame rushing in and converging over its center, a monstrous purple torch illuminating the night. _Vengeance_ became draped over him like a mantle.

"Die, Nagaspawn," he hissed. " _Arcf-_ "

" _Thoron._ "

Validar's eyes bulged, and he spun to counter the lighting spell, his _Arcfire_ intercepting at the last possible second. The two attacks exploded in a dazzling spectacle.

Lucina and Reflet gaped at the entrance to the courtyard that Lucina herself had emerged from. After a moment of disbelief, a wide smile appeared on the princess's face.

" _Robin!_ "

He took slow, limping steps forward. His prized coat was in tatters, as was his skin, which was drenched in blood. His silver sword was missing, and he clutched six sackcloths in his left hand alongside his Thoron tome. Between the man and his father, it was impossible to tell who was in worse shape.

Validar stiffened. "Who... Just who are you?!"

Robin ignored the question, tossing the sackcloths into the air. "I guess I didn't give you enough credit, Validar. I never expected that you would be able to use Entombed to attacked the palace."

Reflet's and Lucina's jaws dropped as they connected the dots, realizing what exactly it was that had kept Robin so preoccupied and had left him in such a state.

The tactician shrugged. "I have to admit, I got lucky. If I hadn't mastered _Sol_ a few days ago, I'd probably be dead now."

Validar narrowed his eyes. ""Entombed"?" he echoed, unfamiliar with the name. "What do you speak of?"

Robin frowned. "What? Don't play dumb. Who else could have summoned those things?"

Validar scowled. "Bah. Enough of your babbling." He pointed a hand at Robin. "Begone, wretch!"

"Hold it. Don't waste my time with that. I want to see your real strength."

Validar paused.

Robin's eyes were like steel. "Go ahead. Take it out."

Validar frowned in suspicion.

" _Grima's Truth_. Take it out. Show me your precious god's strength, and I'll crush it down into dust."

The sorcerer gritted his teeth. "You _dare_ utter such blasphemy?!" He swept his arm out. "Even if I was deserving of wielding that sacred text, I would never _dream_ of putting it to use on a mongrel like you!"

Robin cricked his neck. "...You don't have it, then? Hmm... That's disappointing. I actually kind of wanted to read the damn thing. Never got a chance last time." He shrugged, then flipped open his Thoron tome. "Well, it doesn't change anything. I'm putting you down either way."

"You presume much, whelp!" Validar growled. "I am the hand of God! My purpose is too significant to be thwarted by the likes of _you_!"

""Hand of God", my ass. You're just ashes waiting to be scattered, old man." Robin gestured with his fingers. "Come on. Let's put an end to this."

Validar roared, _Vengeance_ flaring to life around him.

Robin watched this stone-faced.

The two threw out their arms at the same time.

" _Arcfire!_ "

" _Thoron!_ "

The spells flew toward each other.

 _Thoron_ easily overcame _Arcfire_.

Validar's eyes widened.

Robin's expression remained unchanged.

Lighting tore through Validar, gouging out a deep hole in his chest.

Reflet and Lucina looked on numbly.

The light disappeared as the residual traces of the spells vanished. The darkness of the night rushed back into the courtyard.

Validar took teetering steps backward, his hand grasping at flesh that was no longer there. "Wh-Wha... What have you...?"

He fell onto his back, staring through sightless eyes at the new moon.

Robin took weary steps over, his progress slow and halting. "You know..." he began to muse aloud. "I was worried that patricide would have diminishing returns. But this is still pretty damn satisfying even the second time around."

He knelt down and rummaged through the pockets of Validar's ruined clothes. His brow furrowed. "It's not here... I guess he really didn't have it on him after all..." He pried Validar's Arcfire tome from the dead man's grasp, then stood and lit his father's corpse ablaze.

"Let's see Grima bring you back from that, asshole," he spat.

He turned to see Lucina and Reflet approaching, the latter aided in her walking by the former's support.

"Thanks, Robin," Reflet said. "You really bailed us out there. But man, what is it with dramatic entrances tonight?"

Robin gave an exhausted smile. "Sorry. I would have been here sooner, but I was kind of held up. It's a miracle that I even managed to find you all."

Reflet glanced at the scattered sackcloths. "Gods... Did you seriously take out that many of those Entombed things?"

"Barely," Robin murmured, eyeing blood that was still trickling from a wound in his chest.

Lucina smiled, and seemed to be saying something, but Robin couldn't make out any of her words. He noted a throbbing in his temple, and a feeling of light-headedness. Suddenly Lucina and Reflet rotated sharply, and the ground came rushing up to meet him.

The last thing he saw before darkness enfolded him was Lucina's panicked expression.

* * *

When Robin's eyes next opened, he was in recline, his head rested on soft cushioning. He blinked, then looked up to find Lucina's masked face.

Her expression lit up beneath her disguise. "Ah! Thank goodness! You had me worried, Robin!"

He registered that she was on her knees, and his head was being cradled in her lap. He frowned weakly. "What are you... doing, Lucina... Going to get... blood all over your leggings..."

Lucina gave an exasperated laugh. "Unbelievable. You can still manage a joke after all that?"

Robin's brow furrowed in confusion. "What joke?" He made to move, but sudden discomfort caused him to wince.

Lucina carefully brushed away a lock of his white hair. "Shh... Just stay still; You've been unconscious for some time. Aunt Emmeryn only just finished healing you."

Robin grinned brightly. "Ah... So she's safe... That's great..."

She smiled back. "Yes, indeed it is. Final sweeps are being made of the ground floor as we speak. There's no sign of any remaining assassins. Now rest a while. Your wounds could re-open if you move about too much."

Staying put didn't disagree with Robin; aside from the dull and all-encompassing ache spread throughout his body, having Lucina tend to him in this matter wasn't at all unpleasant. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax.

"...We really did it, huh?" he murmured.

"Once again, I believe you're due most of the credit," she replied softly.

"Don't say that. Chrom would probably be dead right now if it hadn't been for you."

Lucina tilted her head. "Laurent and Reflet are just as much to thank for his safety, if not moreso."

She was still running her fingers through Robin's hair, something he found quite soothing. His eyes drooped shut, and he could feel himself beginning to doze off. "...How are they... by the way?"

"Laurent's condition was nearly as bad as yours, but Lady Maribelle assured me that he is now stable. And Reflet was fortunate enough to have only suffered minor injuries."

"And Chrom?"

"Father is well. Aunt Emmeryn is a tremendously talented cleric."

"Good... That's good..."

"I can scarcely believe it," the princess continued, staring up at the starry night sky. "It seems we lost none of the Shepherds tonight. Things could have turned out so differently..."

Through the haze of exhaustion, Robin began to take hold of a thought. "...Yeah... Those Entombed appearing could have been a disaster. We really got lucky. It's almost as if Validar hadn't known they were coming-"

His eyes snapped open wide.

Lucina felt him become tense, and she looked down. "Robin? What's the matter?"

"No..." he breathed. "No... Those Risen... They weren't just randomly there...!" He forced himself to sit upright, trembling as he struggled through the motion. "There... There was more to it than just a simple frontal assault!"

Lucina steadied him with her arms. "Robin, what are you saying?!" she asked, his visible distress infusing her tone with worry.

Robin swallowed dryly, a cold sweat forming on his brow. "It's... It's basic strategy. _Always hit your enemy where they least expect it._ "

* * *

Frederick stood before the doorway of Lissa's room, numb with disbelief.

Sully stared at him through glazed eyes, her surroundings spattered with blood from a hole in her side wide enough that it had claimed most of her liver. Beside her, Stahl's head rested on its right ear, feet away from his crumpled body and with a shocked expression locked into its face.

Frederick had trouble breathing for a moment. Still unable to fully process the scene before him, the Knight Commander slowly turned his head away from his subordinates and toward Lissa's room. The door had been blasted off of its hinges, leaving only scraps of wood and metal in the archway. After a few seconds' passing, his reason caught up with him, and he frantically sprinted forward, sword at the ready.

All he found was an empty bed and an open window.

* * *

On the slopes of the forested hills surrounding Castle Ylisstol, a woman garbed in a Plegian coat carried another over her shoulder. Her hair was white as ash, and her eyes were the color of spilled blood, far too vibrant and bright even in this darkness.

The woman checked the back of her hand. The Mark of Grima stared back at her, but its six eyes, which had all recently been alight with a crimson glow, had all snuffed out.

"Unbelievable..." she murmured. To think that she had lost all of her pets, and in one night, to one man, no less. She looked back toward the castle, where she could feel the layer of death laid out upon the grounds like a blanket, spread across numerous corpses. Validar's was not among them, though he had certainly died; it would seem that the mysterious man responsible for putting down her Risen had not only killed him, but had also gone to great lengths to prevent his revival, as if it was something that was to be anticipated.

She narrowed her eyes in a manner reminiscent of a serpent. "Hmm... It would seem there's an actor on this stage who doesn't belong."

The assassination of Exalt Emmeryn had failed, in part due to the unexpected presence of that loathsome Lucina and her insipid followers. With powers diminished by the ordeal of tearing open the fabric of time, the woman who had once been called Robin hadn't had a choice but to avoid a confrontation with them, and had thus lost her chance to achieve her primary aim.

The woman who looked like Reflet glanced at the girl slumped over her shoulder. Lissa stirred a bit, but remained unconscious. The woman grinned, her gaze glowing with malice.

The assassination of Exalt Emmeryn had failed. But a second-place prize would still suffice.

Grima's vessel glanced back to the castle, where that unknown man was probably only just now discovering what had happened. Her smile grew yet wider.

"It is useless, interloper. No matter how many times you try to rewrite the play, curtain call will come all the same."


	20. Malefactor

"There are better places to take a nap, you know."

Robin groggily opened his eyes. His face was pressed against cold, hard wood. He blinked, then sat upright to find Chrom standing over him.

"Come on, Robin, Professor Frederick's going to be furious if he catches you napping again."

Robin squinted, then looked about himself.

Rows of desks. Familiar faces, all wearing uniforms. A blackboard at the far end of the room.

"...Oh, god _fucking_ dammit."

"What is it, Robin?" Lissa asked.

"Another fucking high school AU?! Who the fuck wants to read this shit?!" He pinched the bridged of his nose and leaned back in his chair, balancing it precariously on its back legs as Chrom and Lissa gave each other confused looks. He sighed. "Alright, alright... Let me guess... Lucina's probably class president (and Chrom's cousin now or something I guess), Aversa's some bitchy cheerleader, Reflet's probably like a star student, Emm's the principal or dean or whatever..."

Chrom furrowed his brow. "Uh, Robin, why are you saying things everyone knows? ...And why do I get the feeling we were in the middle of something important?" He shot a disconcerted glance toward Lissa.

Robin stiffened. "Wait a minute. What's my last name?"

Lissa tilted her head. "You ok, Robin?"

"Just answer the question."

"Validarson."

With a loud noise, Robin abruptly allowed his chair to return to all-fours. He sat still for a moment, then began clawing at the air as if he had just stubbed his toe and was trying his hardest not to audibly acknowledge his pain.

At that moment, a girl approached the group. Robin regained his composure and narrowed his eyes, sizing up the newcomer. She wasn't someone he knew. In fact, she was the _only_ person he didn't know in this entire room, including Sully and Stahl, whom he was pretty fucking sure were dead.

"Hi!" the student greeted chipperly, a glowing expression on her idealized face. "My name is-"

Robin was already on his feet, and without the slightest bit of decorum slapped his hand over the girl's mouth. "Nope. Nope. Not dealing with a self-insert OC today."

The girl squirmed out of his grasp. "But I'm not even a self-insert!" she began to protest. "The author is a m-"

"Don't care. Bye." Robin brusquely began striding to the front of the room, where he had just spotted Lucina. "Get your coat dear. We're leaving."

Lucina frowned. "I do not have a coat." She looked down at her uniform. "I have a vest, but I'm already wearing it."

"Alright, I'll buy you a coat so I can use the expression at a later date. Point is, we're outta here."

"Are you sure we cannot stay? This could could be a nice change of pace."

Robin snorted derisively. "In _this_ genre? I'd almost rather give up my main character slot and be stuck in one of those OC isekai / trapped in a video game slogs!"

Her face became stern. "Now _that_ is crossing a line."

He waved a hand. "Ok, ok, I didn't mean that. Look, let's just get a nice lunch somewhere nice and quiet, and wait for this godforsaken day to blow over."

"Hey, dweeb!" a voice called. Robin and Lucina turned just in time to see Vaike put Donnel in a chokehold.

Robin was aghast. "Oh, come on! _Vaike_?! _Vaike_ is the school bully?! He's probably one of the nicest guys out of any of us! The man wants to spend his life helping slum kids, for God's sake!" He sighed. "Fuck this. Come on, let's go. We stick around too long and we risk getting caught up in some topical, laughably-handled school-shooter schlock."

Lucina shrugged, then rose to join him. "If you insist," she said as they entwined their fingers and began to make their way out of the room.

"By the way, you look great in glasses."

Lucina blushed slightly. "Thank you. My vision was already perfect, but..."

"It's not about how you _see_. It's about how you _look_."

She smiled coyly. "Well, how do I _look_?"

Robin grinned like a wolf. "Good enough that I want to skip lunch and get straight to dessert."

"I could certainly go for that." Lucina paused. "...Dessert is a metaphor for sex, yes?"

"Yes."

"Just wanted to be certain."

Robin laughed, then leaned in for a kiss.

* * *

Grima's eyes snapped open. The future-past Robin sat upright, then bolted to her feet, red eyes darting back and forth. She was standing on the roof of the school, with sprawling city serving as scenery around her.

She blinked.

" _...Where the fuck am I?!_ "


End file.
